All I Have To Do Is Dream
by JessicaDwyer
Summary: What really happened in Springwood all those years ago? What if Krueger was really innocent? And what can stop a demon who's revenge is just? The kids from Elm St have to find a way and discover a secret that no one knew about Freddy Krueger.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Frankie and whomever else you don't know (yet…mwahahha). The rest belong to Wes Craven and whoever else is producing these flicks.**

**Authors Note: Okay, so it's not bad enough I've got a Sweeney Todd and an Alice In Wonderland fic going on. Jackie Haley had to go and jumpstart my Freddy Krueger love and this is the result. His Krueger is my new crack. I loves him. **

**But my one problem with the new flick is I really liked the idea of Freddy being innocent and still being made to fry. Vengeance unleashed is tasty and so I've decided to mess with the myth so to speak and that's where this new take on the old story comes into play. How yummy angst filled and tragedy wrapped can we make our crispy critter? Oh lots! And he can still hack away to his black hearts content. (And yes Frankie and Freddy...I thought it was cute, sue me.)**

**So here we go…let me know what you think and I'll continue. There will be plenty of blood, mature situations, and Nancy and Quentin to show up. Along with nods to the original films (such as the one in this chapter) which takes place 13 or 14 years before the new movie does (during the time he's working at the school and Nancy and the kids are attending.)**

_**Chapter 1**_

The factory was dark. It always was, even if it was daytime and in the middle of summer, inside it was as black as night. No one ever came out here anymore, not since the plant shut down. It was so quiet you could hear the water dripping from the rusted pipes, the scurrying of mice or rats that moved about the trash strewn floor

The girl who was walking with the flashlight in her hand and the back pack slung over her shoulder was used to these sounds though. She was used to this place. She came here often enough that nothing in it surprised her any longer.

Frankie Jones didn't stumble once over the debris that littered the concrete. She brushed back a stray lock of brown hair from her pale eyes as she came to stand in front of the rickety metal stairs that were her goal. Frankie gave one last look around and then headed up them carefully, keeping to the right side. At the top was a shut door with a small dirty window. This was a supervisor's room, back in the days when the place was running.

She opened the door slowly, trying to alleviate the amount of squeaking the metal made. Frankie was always just overly cautious, even though there was no one around here that would have even heard the sound. She closed the door behind her and turned off the flashlight. There was a desk with a lantern sitting on it and a lumpy cot in the corner. A radio was next to the lantern and there were a couple of office chairs, as well as another lantern hanging from the wall. File cabinets that were long since empty stood with pulled open drawers along the far wall.

There was a skylight that although dirty let in the sun via sporadic beams that cut through the grime. Frankie headed over to the desk and placed her backpack on it and sighed. The thing weighed like 90 pounds thanks to the school books. Thankfully it was her last year in High School and she'd be free of that for a while.

She pulled out her history text book as well as her notebook and her pen. The essay she had to work on was due in two days, but it would be best to just start working on it. The fall of Marie Antoinette was the story for the day. She started scribbling an outline.

She heard the door swing open slowly, the same careful attempt at keeping it from squeaking, and then it shut. Frankie didn't look up from her work, she kept scribbling as she'd figured out a perfect way to represent the downfall of the aristocrat that might score her another A. When a hand touched her shoulder she didn't jump at all. "Hey Freddy." She said smiling as he gave her a light squeeze.

"Hey Frankie." She heard his soft voice reply. She saw his face out of the corner of her eye, peering over her shoulder and looking at what she was writing so furiously. "She lost her head." He said.

"Yes she did." Frankie wrote one final line and then turned to glance at the man next to her. "Do you know much about French history?"

Fred Krueger smiled at the young woman, his blue eyes twinkling. "They had a revolution and they like cutting off heads. Oh, and making landmarks." He sat down in the chair near hers, taking off his battered hat and tossing it on the desk, his dark hair hanging over his ears.

"Well you're gonna be a lot of help." She told him dryly.

"Hey now…that's not nice." He managed to sound hurt. "And here I brought dinner."

At this her eyes lit up. "Food?"

Fred grinned, liking the way her own blue eyes seemed to glow when she was happy. "Yes, you know…stuff to eat." He placed a brown paper bag in front of her and one in front of himself. "Burgers and fries, the food of kings. Although I think Marie preferred cake didn't she?" Then he magically produced a 2 liter of Pepsi and two plastic cups.

"I love you!" She said without thinking and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking the soda over.

She didn't see the way his face tensed at the words. Fred hugged her back, albeit gingerly. "I figured you were hungry…you never eat like you should."

When she pulled away he kept a loose hold around her. He searched her expression and noticed how her eyes looked sunken, her skin pale. "You've not been taking care of yourself."

"I'm alright Freddy." She pulled away, hoping he didn't notice the new bruise on her arm. She pulled open a bag and ate two fries.

"You're not…" He told her, his voice lowering in concern.

"It's almost the weekend. I can rest then okay?" She ate another few fries, noticing how his eyes had narrowed at her. "Seriously, I'm okay Fred. You worry too much."

"I have a reason to." He told her, finally sitting back and opening his own bag of food. "You know what would happen if they caught us meeting like this Frankie. It doesn't matter that I've never laid a finger on you…"

At that she poked him in the leg garnering a "That's not funny."

Frankie poured them both a cup of soda. "I know Fred. I'm underage, your older…you work at the school…bad things. Nobility and all of that."

Freddy shook his head at her flippancy. "There's nothing wrong with being noble."

"Tell that to Marie Antoinette." She quipped back taking a drink.

"You're just a riot today." Freddy took a bite of his burger chewing it thoughtfully, his eyes studying her as she ate more of her fries. "I still don't get it." He smiled just slightly.

"Get what?" She said around a mouthful of hamburger.

Fred's smile widened. "You and me…I don't get it." He took another bite of his burger.

"Ah…cause I'm such a catch?" Frankie said sarcastically and gulped down her soda.

Freddy got that serious look on his face again. "Yes, actually…and I'm a loser who lives in a basement."

Frankie placed her burger on the table and glared at him. It caused her pale eyes to remind him of diamonds. "You're not a loser. You're a good man, one of the few I know. And that's why I l…"

Freddy stopped her with a finger to her lips. He didn't want to hear it again. Because it didn't help the fact he wasn't going to break that rule…she was seventeen. He was thirty eight. That thought bugged him enough. But every time she told him she loved him he had a hard time just believing it to be true. Yet she came here every other day like clockwork, meeting him in the one place he knew they wouldn't find them. And every time he heard her say it, he felt that need come over him...He wanted to bury his nose in her hair. He wanted to touch her pale skin, count every freckle he knew would be on her shoulders. Fred could just imagine what she'd taste like if he…God this wasn't helping him.

He was waiting and so was she. Then the law wouldn't have a thing to say about it. Her parents couldn't stop her. And the town…well…Springwood wasn't the only place in the world. Living in a basement at the place he worked had allowed him to save up a little money. They could leave town, she'd be away from her loser father and they'd be free to go wherever they pleased. She could go to college if she wanted, she was so smart. And he'd find a job and they'd be happy…happy. He'd miss the kids of course. He loved those kids like his own. But truthfully he loved Frankie more. She was the one good thing that was truly his he'd ever had. And she still wasn't his completely, not yet anyway.

The minute…the day she turned eighteen he was snatching her away and that was that. Then she'd be his, all his.

"I told you about that." He said finally his voice soft, removing his finger and touching her cheek gently.

Frankie huffed. "That's not fair. I should be able to say it."

Fred smiled, "Soon. But for right now, just do me the favor of not."

"You're a weird guy Fred Krueger." Frankie grinned back at him after shaking her head.

"I've been called worse." He said sighing. "Now eat up."

They ate the rest of what Fred called his "low rent feast." Fred asked her about her day and she told him how she couldn't wait to be out that school. The elitist Springwood kids were annoying, and she'd never fit in with them. The only one who didn't annoy her was that guy Glen. He was nice enough although the sweater vests needed to go.

Fred didn't like the way she smiled when she mentioned him. He felt a pang of jealousy slice him like a knife. He knew this was par for the course…but the thought that that guy could take her out and not have to worry about the stares, the cops, or going to jail made him angry. He didn't need to meet her in a broken down factory away from prying eyes. He could hold her hand, kiss her, touch her…Freddy realized she'd stopped talking after a few seconds and was just looking at him with a strange expression. He also realized the rage that was starting to boil in him must have been showing on his face.

"Freddy…did I say something wrong?" She asked in a quiet voice.

That broke through and he felt like a jerk. He didn't like it when she sounded so timid and scared. Not around him. She got enough of that at home. He looked at the floor, taking a deep breath. "No…no Frankie. I just wish…"

Frankie gave him small smile, and reached out for his hand. "No brooding. Not allowed."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "You know me too well kid."

"Hey, I told you about that…" She hated it when he called her "kid"

He laughed. "Sorry…" Then he noticed something, just under the long sleeve of her shirt. He held tighter to her hand and quickly reached down, moving the material up her arm. There he saw the bruise, five distinct finger marks where someone had held her roughly. He knew there'd be others on her that she was managing to hide.

When she tried to pull away he didn't let her. "When did he do these?" He asked her, his voice going low and sounding dangerous and strange coming from him.

Frankie couldn't look at him, her eyes avoided his. Damn it, she didn't want him to see those. "Fred, please…" the sound was barely a whisper.

"Tell me." He nearly growled, causing her to look up into the burning steel of his gaze.

His eyes drilled right into her, as if dragging the truth out of her very soul.

Frankie had only seen him this way a couple times before. When he'd realized what her father sometimes did. Not really sometimes, it was becoming more and more frequent. The drinking was getting worse since her mother had left him…and no one seemed to care about it other than Fred.

The first time he'd hit her she'd had a slight shiner. It wasn't long after she and Freddy had gotten closer than just friends. And Fred had nearly gone to her house to confront him. She'd talked him out of it, but Frankie knew he wasn't happy that she'd been hurt. After that she'd done an alright job keeping the marks hidden. But he'd sometimes see them. He'd notice her looking pale and unhealthy due to the stress of everything. She'd forget to eat, or there would be no food in the house to eat, she wouldn't sleep. He knew the signs.

Frankie fought back tears. She didn't want him going there. Her dad was a big guy, and while Freddy could no doubt hold his own…she just didn't want that happening. It would cause more problems than it would fix. She let out a shaky breath. "It was the other night. He'd been drinking since mom's new request came through. I was in the line of fire."

"The bastard…" Freddy seethed. He felt an overwhelming urge to go and find the man and beat him senseless so he would know what it felt like. No more than that….he wanted him to hurt, to suffer. And he'd enjoy being the one making him suffer. "I'm going to kill him." He said it very calmly, and stood up in the next instant and started heading towards the door.

Frankie realized he was serious and ran and cut him off before he could leave, blocking his exit. "Freddy please don't." She pleaded.

"Frankie get out of the way." He lowered his head, glaring at her like a bull ready to charge.

"No, you can't do this…if you do anything to him they'll wonder why you even care…and then how you knew. Either way, they will take you away and I'll never get to see you again. And it's not worth that." She felt tears on her cheeks.

Freddy let out another frustrated growl. "You are worth it! I can't just stand by and let this keep happening. He needs to pay Frankie, your mother too. You don't deserve this! Get out of the way now!"

Frankie couldn't let him walk out that door. It would all end terribly if she did. So instead of getting out of the way she quickly moved towards him and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his shoulder and begged him not to do it. "Please Fred…don't. If I lose you I won't have anything. Please…" He smelled of the flowers and the grass that he tended to at the school with just a bit of aftershave. It was clean and nice…and it made her cling to him even harder.

Freddy wanted to push her away and storm out, right to her house. He wanted to bash in her front door, and then bash in her fathers skull. Then maybe her mom's too. But she knew him too well, as he'd told her before. The feel of her arms around him, the wetness of the tears through his sweater that she was crying, her voice…she knew he'd not be able to leave her. He hated her a little bit for that, just for a moment.

"Frankie…I can't let you go back there." He wanted to push her away, but instead he put his arms around her, holding her closer. Fred felt her jerk just a little and knew that she'd have bruises on her ribs. The fucker had probably gone out of his way not to leave a mark where people would see it this time. "One of these times…one of these times he's going to go too far…" The thought made him terrified because he didn't know what he'd do if that happened.

"Fred…it's just another two weeks." She lifted her face to look up at him. She was always amazed by the color of his eyes. Swirly grey and blue…and now as she looked into them she saw the storm they so closely resembled reflected back at her. "I can make it another two weeks."

"I don't know if I can." He told her, staring into her pale face, lifting his hand to her damp cheek. He brushed his thumb along her skin, remembering how it had looked that first time. "Frankie…" He whispered her name, as though afraid she was a dream that he'd imagined. He almost believed that was true every time he saw her. He still couldn't figure out why, even with what she kept telling him, why she wanted to be with him of all people. "You can't keep letting this…"

Frankie didn't want to hear it; she didn't want to see that look on his face. So instead she kissed him, quickly and without preamble, pressing her lips to his. It was a good thing he was considered short or she wouldn't have been able to do it so easily. She felt him go completely still, and then felt him start to try and pull away from her.

Fred managed to will himself to break away from her warm mouth. But he couldn't bring himself to let her go. "Frankie don't." He managed to choke the words out. She had no idea how much will it took to resist the temptation she offered him. And the times she kissed him like this nearly pushed him over the edge.

"Freddy…" she sighed his name, her pale eyes glossy and staring up at him. "One kiss won't hurt."

He took a shuddering breath. She tasted like cola and strawberry chapstick this time. The first time he'd kissed her, or more to the point she'd kissed him because he'd been too terrified to even move, it had been bubblegum and Twizzlers. He remembered every damn taste of her he'd had. That fact should have worried him, that his brain had cataloged all of these things. But it was these memories that helped him get through the times in between waiting to be near her again.

"One kiss is all it takes to get me thrown in jail and you sent to a convent." He told her, his fingers running through her hair.

"Then we should make them count." She replied, a smile pulling at her lips.

Freddy closed his eyes and let out another heavy sigh, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're going to give me a heart attack someday…I'm the elderly one here."

"You're mature and wiser." Frankie told him.

Fred pulled back to look at her again. "I've never really been one for acting mature, and if I was wise I'd be smart enough to know not to do this." He grasped hold of her chin and brought his mouth down on hers.

His lips were thin and nimble and Freddy knew how to kiss a girl. But this was the first time she'd felt his tongue touch her mouth and the effect shocked her. Her lips parted and he was inside. He tightened his arm around her, his fingers pulling her hair to bring her head back to give him better access. Frankie let him, the pulse of warmth that was growing with each little lap at her mouth he took spreading out along her skin.

Freddy realized that he was going way beyond the boundaries he'd set for them. But he didn't care at the moment. She felt really good, tasted even better, and he wanted to enjoy it. He felt her fingers grasping at the front of his sweater, bunching up the ragged striped material in her fists. Fred heard the little mewing noises that were coming from her throat and it made him want to hear more. He didn't know when it had happened but he had her pushed up against the peeling paint covered wall of the empty room.

The haze that had settled over his mind lifted, and Fred Krueger cursed himself for letting it get to this point. He managed to dislodge her hands from his shirt. "God Frankie I'm sorry…I…I shouldn't have…" He mumbled as he pulled away from her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were still closed. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride rush through him at the fact he'd caused those reactions.

Frankie's thoughts managed to settle. "I asked…not…not a problem." She told him, finally opening her eyes and seeing his narrow face looking ashamed. She reached up touching his gaunt cheek and smiled. "Don't apologize."

"You're too forgiving for your own good." He told her shaking his head, frowning.

Frankie watched his eyes grow darker. "No I'm not. I just feel I should be thanking you instead of forgiving you for that." She let out a nervous laugh.

He pursed his lips and let go of her, turning away and taking a few deep breaths. "I'm not just talking about me." He told her, his voice growing as dark as his eyes.

"Fred, promise me you won't do anything." Frankie moved forward, suddenly worried.

He shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. "Don't make me promise that Frankie. Anything but that…"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I know what will happen Fred. You know he's got friends…he's a cop Freddy. He can do whatever he wants. It's always been that way. I mean why do you think my mom left?"

"Because she's a bitch." He didn't mean to say it out loud, but it happened all the same, and it came out harsh.

"Fred!" Frankie's voice was a mixture of shock and anger.

He turned, surprised himself, but he had a point. "She should have took you with her and not left you there with him. She had to know Frankie." He saw the tears in her eyes and instantly hated himself. He took a step towards her, but she moved away.

"Don't touch me." She told him, and the words cut him deep.

"Frankie…I…I'm sorry." He took a breath. "I just…"

She shook her head and started putting away her book. Frankie knew he was angry for her, that he just wanted her safe. But it didn't help for him to point out the obvious and remind her that her mother had left her with an abusive drunk. It just made it that much worse.

"I'm going home. I think he's on patrol tonight so I should be able to get some sleep." Her tone was resigned, tired.

Fred hated how defeated she sounded. "Frankie…" He said her name hesitantly, unsure if he'd done something monumentally stupid. It wouldn't be the first time.

She paused, leaning her hands on the top of the desk. She huffed out a breath of air. "Yes Freddy?"

"You still my girl?" He asked, his voice sounding even softer than before.

Frankie let her head drop a bit further. He sounded like a little boy, younger even than her when he got this way. It was like there were three or four different Freddy Krueger's running around in his head. She hated to admit that was part of the reason she loved him. He could be sweet, then fiercely protective, and in the next instant so unsure of everything when it came to her like now. Granted she could have punched him a minute ago. But he was right, she was too forgiving.

"Yes I'm still your girl." She told him without turning around. Then she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, heading towards the door.

Fred watched her silently walking away and he felt an icy hand grasp his heart. He didn't know why, but he felt uneasy, more than just the argument they'd had. "Hey…" He called out after her, and she paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned and looked back at him with pale, haunted eyes.

"I love you." He told her, barely loud enough for her to hear, breaking his own rule.

Frankie felt the smile pull at her lips without her consent. She couldn't help it as she looked back at the unassuming man in the red and green sweater in the empty room. Then a chill shook her, causing her to tremble. For a moment she saw him in her minds eye, in the darkness down below them. Only it wasn't dark, not completely…there was fire. Fire everywhere and he was a its center, and he was screaming…

The image came and went within the space of a heartbeat. The young woman shook her head clear of it. She wanted to say something, to warn him, but of what? Her crazy brain playing tricks with her eyes? Frankie instead asked him "Same time Friday?"

Freddy shook his head with a half smile. "Same exotic location." He replied.

She gave him one last look and with a little wave walked out the door.

Fred let out a relieved gush of air from his chest. He'd wait another twenty minutes and then leave too. It was always the same, just to be safe. He took a seat in one of the battered chairs and hummed an old Everly Brothers tune as he twirled his hat on one finger, thoughts of ingenious ways to teach Frankie's father a lesson running through his head. Some of them really made him smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Frankie and the original peeps in the story. I do own numerous Freddy dolls though, including the action figures of pre and post burn Freddy. I do so love me a man in stripes.

Authors Note: This chapter took a while to finish. I hope you like it, it turned out rather long. Thank you all for either reviewing or faving my story. I'm one of those annoying people who like giving characters background and plot, so I'm working my way up to what makes Freddy you know…FREDDY. But this is my version so we have to have background and character development of some kind.

Also, those who are horror movie fans I challenge you to name the two films I sneak little tributes to in this chapter. Mwahahah.

Reviews make me happy and write faster. They also make Freddy happy. And a happy Freddy is one that doesn't poke my brain quite as hard with his claw. That's a good thing, trust me.

_**Italics Is a flashback scene. **_

Chapter 2

Frankie's house wasn't on Elm Street like Glen's or the Badham preschool kids that Freddy knew. It was on what was considered the wrong side of town, which was ironic since her dad Mark was on the police force. But the fact that he was considered law enforcement material in Springwood was just more proof to Frankie how backwards the town itself was.

When she got to her house she was relieved to see her dad's beat up Buick was not parked out front. That meant he was working that night and she'd be safe to do her homework and go to bed without incident.

She went up to her small bedroom on the second floor and tossed her bag on the mattress and headed back down to the kitchen. She made herself a cup of coffee, instant and bitter that she added sugar and creamer to. It was enough to make it drinkable, which was to say a lot. She'd need it tonight to finish the essay.

Back up in her room Frankie turned on her radio and started reading more of her history book and writing out the assignment in between grimacing sips of coffee. Soon it was two hours in and she was nearly done. It was nearly 9:30 and her concentration was not sticking with the French aristocracy anymore. She looked out her window at the clear night sky and then stretched, her neck popping loudly. Frankie shut her book closed and shoved it into her backpack.

Her thoughts turned as they usually did to Freddy as the music on the radio changed to one of those old songs he liked. She liked them too, that was part of the reason they had started talking to one another those months ago. This one was by Gene Pitney and was called "Town without Pity" Very appropriate considering her thoughts on Springwood of late.

_Frankie smiled as she remembered how it had started. She'd been at the park. It was a nice day and she'd gone there to avoid her dad and to just read and be outside. Mark Jones had been on a bender the night before and she wanted to avoid his hangover. Badham School had a field trip for the kids. There was really nothing educational about it, it was really just a chance for the harried teacher to get the kids out of doors. Freddy had volunteered to help her out since her assistant had caught a cold, so he had come along._

_Frankie had been sitting on the grass, back against a tree trunk and reading a copy of Dracula. The effect was sort of lessened by the bright sunshine, but she was enjoying it. That was when a pale little boy ran past her, laughing loudly and carrying a brown hat. He was quickly followed by a man in a short sleeved shirt and jeans who looked out of breath. "Quentin…give…me back…my hat." He managed to say, finally doubling over. His brown hair fell over his eyes a bit as he stood there panting._

"_No no no…it's mine mine mine." The little boy said from behind the tree trunk. Frankie winced at the hyperactive tone. The kid had obviously led the man on a chase and a half. She decided to help the guy out. She pretended not to be paying attention to them, while her right hand inched towards where the hat dangled from the little boy's fingers._

"_Quentin come on…you know it's not nice to take things that don't belong to you." The man looked up at last and Frankie saw that he had eyes that matched the color of the sky above them. When he caught her gaze he smiled, a shy nearly boyish grin on his narrow face. She gave him a hesitant smile back and then swiped the hat from the little boys hand quickly._

"_HEY! That's mine!" Quentin cried stomping his feet._

_Frankie laughed, twirling the hat out of reach of the little boy as she stood up. "Nuh uh! If we go by what you were saying, then it belongs to whoever has it in their hand. And that would be me."_

_Quentin pouted at her. "I'm telling!" _

_She smiled at the boy. "What are you going to tell? That someone took something from you that didn't belong to them?"_

_He crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed. "Yes!" _

"_Well then, now you know how it feels." With that Frankie turned to the man with the blue eyes and sweet smile. "I think this is yours." She told him and handed him his hat. _

_He gave her another of those grins. "Thank you Miss." He said politely. He turned to the now rather embarrassed looking child. "Quentin I won't tell on you if you tell me you've learned a lesson here."_

_The boy was still pouting, but he looked more ashamed than anything else. He was looking at the ground now. "Ok…" he muttered._

"_What's the lesson Quentin?" The man prodded._

"_Don't take what doesn't belong to you…" Quentin said sullenly._

"_That's right. Go on now and eat your lunch…I think I see peanut butter and jelly being handed out." The man said leaning down so he was the same height as the little boy and pointing towards some picnic tables. _

_Quentin's eyes widened a bit and in the next instant he was running faster than Frankie thought possible. "I guess he likes PB and J." She said laughing._

_The man laughed too. "Who doesn't?" He asked. _

"_That's true." Frankie replied. _

"_Uhm…thank you though again…I thought I was going to have a heart attack before I caught up with him." The man held out his hand. "My name is Fred Krueger. I'm helping out Mrs. Davis down there with the kids today."_

_Frankie shook his hand, finding it warm and calloused. "Frankie Jones. Are you a teacher?"_

"_Oh no…" Fred laughed, actually looking ashamed himself now. "I'm sort of the school's jack of all trades. I do the gardening mostly…"_

"_What school?" She asked him. _

"_Oh it's the Badham Pre- School." He was happy to see she wasn't dismissing him as just a janitor or something._

"_I know that place actually." She gave him a big grin. "Hey you do good work. I noticed the flowers the last time I went by there. The new ones out front on the raised beds."_

_Freddy's eyes widened, and she swore she saw him blush just a bit. "Thank you…those were hard work to get done. The boards kept warping."_

"_You built those too?" Frankie was impressed. She'd actually flunked out of shop class. Everything she made tended to be warped or bent. Considering that's how most people described her that didn't surprise her much._

_Fred found himself feeling the unfamiliar sensation of pride. "Yeah I did." He told her noticing just how pretty her hair was in the sunlight. It was brown but there were shades of red and even some blonde in there. _

"_That's awesome. I can barely put a nail into a wall straight without nearly bashing a hole into it or bashing my finger. "She grinned and took her seat once more by the tree._

_Freddy found himself not actually wanting to leave her. Quentin had led him on quite the chase and the thought of sitting down with another grown up was really appealing at the moment. He noticed the book she was reading. "So you like scary movies?" He asked her, sitting down a respectable distance away._

_Frankie laughed. "I do in fact, but it was a book first."_

"_Oh I know that…" He placed the hat on his head and leaned back gratefully against his own tree trunk. "Just an odd thing to see someone reading it on a bright day like this." _

_Frankie laughed again. She hadn't laughed in a very long time and it was a nice change to the norm. "I was thinking that too, but I was in the mood for it. So there you go. I don't think the pages are going to burn up in the sun or anything…"_

_Fred grinned again. "I'd hope not. Make it hard to read." He peered at her a little more closely and noticed she looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was pale. "Hey are you hungry?" He asked her suddenly._

"_Actually I think I am." She realized she was telling the truth._

"_Well I can at least offer you a sandwich and some lemonade for helping me get my favorite hat back." Freddy kept studying her, trying to not be so obvious about it. When she smiled at him once more he felt his breath hitch just a bit. _

"_It is true I'm as much of an addict for PB&J as Quentin is I think." She told him putting her book away._

"_Well then, come on down and meet the kids. I think Mrs. Davis packed enough sandwiches to feed a small army." He stood and offered her a hand up which she took. Fred liked the way her hand felt in his. Then he realized as he saw the textbooks sticking out of her bag that the girl was just that…a girl. _

_He immediately felt ashamed. But he hid it well while she grabbed her backpack from off the ground. When she turned her pale eyes back to him she was grinning again. Fred cursed the fact he was still having the same reaction to her. "Lead on to the feasting." She joked, not realizing his dilemma._

_They went down to the tables and he introduced her to Mrs. Davis. She learned the kids names and by the end of the afternoon she was friends with all of them, even Quentin. She was watching Freddy with the children and how much fun he had with them. He was a big kid himself she realized, and even though he was older than her by at least twenty years she couldn't help the fact she thought he was cute. He wasn't conventionally handsome. He was shorter than most guys and his face was sort of pointed. But there was something about him. Plus his eyes were downright beautiful. _

_She sat down hard on the picnic table's bench and realized just what kind of thoughts she was having for this man. It wasn't like her firstly. Second, he was twice her age and she'd just met him. Then there was the whole fact that her father would kill her…_

Frankie laughed as the song on her radio changed to "Charlie Brown", breaking her out of her revere. "Why is everybody always picking on me?" She sang along with the deep voice coming from her speakers while she stood and changed into her pajamas. As she lay down, eyes staring up at the ceiling she found herself replaying even more of the events that had led up to her falling in love with Fred Krueger.

_Mrs. Davis was to blame really. She'd asked her if she wanted to volunteer to help out when she had time and she'd said yes. And so over the course of the next few months she and Freddy were spending more and more time together. _

_Frankie learned that he had no family of his own. He loved the kids at the school and never wanted them to have to deal with the sort of things he had to growing up an orphan. In fact, that was part of the reason he and the kids got along so well. He'd never had much of a childhood, and getting to goof around with them gave him a second chance at one. _

_He loved oldies music, which wasn't actually oldies to him so much. But so did she and they'd wind up listening to his small yet impressive record collection while eating lunch at the school in the basement where he lived. He wasn't proud of the fact he lived there, but Frankie made a point of telling him it didn't matter and he shouldn't be embarrassed by it. _

_It was a nice time, hanging out with Freddy and the kids. They talked about all kinds of things, and he acted like he actually cared about what she had going on in her life. She avoided talking to him about what her father did to her. She didn't want him to know…it made her feel like a pariah. She knew she didn't deserve the beatings, but the fact she was the target….or that she couldn't do anything about it…made her feel inferior. And also this was her safe haven. She didn't want to taint it with that part of her life. _

_Of course that illusion of keeping it from being known couldn't last forever. And one weekend her dad came home from work drunk off his ass. He'd been on a double shift at the station and he was in a foul mood. Frankie hadn't been as careful as she normally was. She'd made the mistake of saying something about how he was drinking too much. It had slipped. She knew better. It had reminded him of her mother. His fist had shot out so fast she hadn't even seen it happen. Suddenly she was on the floor her head ringing and blood leaking from the cut above her eye where his ring had sliced open her skin. For good measure since he was really pissed at her he'd kicked her in the stomach. _

_While she was crying and holding her middle (she hated crying when he did it, but the pain made it too hard not to) he'd left to go to the bar. Somewhere dark and angry inside her wished he'd crash his car into a tree. But he'd gotten skilled at driving while stinking drunk. She knew he'd make it back in one piece._

_The next morning was a Saturday. The Badham kids were supposed to be going on another field trip, which was really visiting the Springwood Fair. It was a collection of fast food, funnel cakes, cheap thrill rides, and some craft booths. There was also a garden and flower exhibit. Frankie knew that Fred and the kids were actually excited about it. But when she'd woke up that morning there was the angry dark blue bruising on her face and the less obvious on her stomach. The cut wasn't bleeding anymore…but it looked painful, which it was of course. There would be no hiding this. There wasn't enough concealer in the world._

_The old standard excuse of having slipped and fell would be her choice for the day. When she arrived at the school to hop on the bus with everyone she saw the look cross Freddy's face as soon as he saw her. His blue eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. He quickly moved to sit next to her. He'd dressed up in his nicest shirt and a pair of khaki pants. No jeans or raggedy sweater today. It made her smile a bit. _

"_Frankie what the heck happened?" He asked her reaching up to lightly touch her forehead. He didn't even think about it being inappropriate. Seeing her hurt made a twinge hit his insides. _

_His fingers were cool and felt nice against her skin. But she pulled away, not wanting him to figure out the truth of how she'd gotten the shiner. "I fell…I'm clumsy…you know that from experience."_

_Fred's eyes narrowed at what she said. He'd been in enough fights growing up to recognize a black eye caused by a fist. And that's exactly what she had. "How'd you fall?" He asked her, voice low. The bus had started moving and the kids were seated. None of them were paying attention to what they were talking about. They were too excited about going to the fair._

"_It doesn't matter." She told him, hoping he'd let it drop._

_Fred wasn't as slow as many people thought he was. In fact he was very, very smart. And this sort of confirmed what he'd been suspicious of all along. Someone was hurting his Frankie and he didn't like it. Freddy's left hand grasped her right one. With his free hand he took hold of her chin and made her look him in the eye. "Frankie, I know what a punch can do to someone." He whispered to her, his normally light blue eyes growing darker. "Who hit you?"_

_Frankie's lower lip trembled as she saw the mixture of concern and anger in his gaze. She'd never seen him so serious before and she'd never thought of anyone caring enough to ask her about the bruises she hid. She was not going to start crying on this bus, she refused. "Freddy please…I just fell."_

_His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a grimace. "It was your dad wasn't it?" His voice was nearly a growl, something else she'd never experienced with him. _

_He saw her eyes glance away and he knew he was right. Right then Mrs. Davis decided to call from the front of the bus for Freddy to help her with choosing which part of the fair to hit first. He told her he'd be there in a second then he turned back to Frankie. "We're talking about this later." His voice was different, the sort you wouldn't refuse because it carried weight behind it._

_Frankie sat there, watching him walk away and talk to Mrs. Davis while the pre-schooler's bantered about how they couldn't wait for cotton candy. It was so normal, and yet here she was…so very not. She stared out the window of the bus watching the suburban houses pass by. Every so often she'd glance towards the front of the bus and catch Freddy looking at her, that same serious expression on his face while Mrs. Davis prattled on about something. She turned away, feeling ashamed again._

_Nancy Thompson's round cheeked face peeked over the seat in front of her. "What happened to your head?" the little girl asked innocently. _

_Frankie sighed. "I fell." She told her, sitting back heavily in the stiff seat._

"_I'm sorry." Nancy told her pouting. "It's a pretty blue though."_

_Frankie couldn't help but laugh at that. Nancy was the artist of the group. Leave it to her find the shade of a bruise pretty. "I'm glad you like it." She told her, which garnered a smile from the pretty five year old who sat back down and started talking to her friend Jesse about the rides they would ride._

_Mrs. Davis kept Freddy occupied the whole bus ride, for which Frankie was grateful. She didn't want to talk to him about this. She'd come to the realization that she was doing exactly what she had not wanted to do. She was tainting this haven of both Freddy and the kids. This was the last thing she'd be involved with she'd decided. _

_She'd miss the kids a lot but she'd miss Freddy most of all. He'd become her best friend and that was part of the reason she couldn't let her own personal demons ruin this place for him. It would hurt to pry him out of her life like that, a lot more than Frankie cared to admit. But she had to do it, for his sake and the kids as well. Her dad hadn't said anything yet about her volunteering at the school. But it would only be a matter of time before he ruined it completely. Now would be the time to stop it._

_When they had arrived at the fair Mrs. Davis had split them into three groups, one with each chaperone. Freddy hadn't looked happy about that, but it worked better that way. Frankie had Quentin, Jesse, Jenny, David, and Sarah. It was a pretty easy group to handle except for when Quentin and Jesse had started fighting over who got to ride in the front of the small roller coaster. Frankie had made it easy for them and had let David and Sarah do it because they hadn't resorted to screaming. _

_After an hour of running around the rides it was time to grab some lunch. The group met back up at the food area. The smell of greasy sweets was like a drug to the kids who had to be firmly told only one sugary food was allowed. Freddy joined her in line at a stand. "How's your gang?" He asked her with a smile._

"_Only one fight so far, so I can't complain." She ordered her chili cheese fries and a frozen lemonade._

_Before she could pay for it Freddy had given the man at the counter enough money to cover his order and hers. "Hey! That's not allowed." She protested._

"_It's too late now, so just grab seats before they are all gone." He waved her off and with a glare she found an empty spot close enough to the kids where they could still see them._

_Freddy came over a minute later with a tray covered in cholesterol. Besides her large order of chili cheese fries he'd bought a massive funnel cake and a hamburger with his own side of cheese fries. He'd opted for a cherry slushee instead of the lemonade. _

"_We're going to stroke out after eating this." Frankie commented forking a mouthful of dripping fries._

"_We need the energy to keep up with the kids." He told her._

_They ate in silence for a while, and Frankie decided now would be the best time to tell him what she'd decided. "Fred, I'm not going to come back to the school anymore."_

_He paused in chewing, his brows knitting over his eyes. He swallowed and it took a bit of effort to do so. If felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. "Why?" He asked her._

_Frankie was once again having trouble meeting his eyes. "There are a lot of reasons. But I just think it would be for the best."_

"_The best for who?" Freddy had an idea of what was motivating this. And he felt the stirrings of anger in his chest for her father. He had no doubt that what was said on the bus was to blame for this. "Frankie the kids love you. I…I'd miss you being here…" His voice was soft and pleading. His world was wrapped up in the pre-school and she'd become a very important part of that world. He didn't want to lose her. His hand that lay against his side balled up in a fist, his nails biting into his palm. Fred wasn't going to allow her father to ruin this for her or himself._

_She shook her head. "Fred I'll miss you too. You just don't understand." She sighed, glancing up at him and seeing the hurt filled expression on his face. It made her want to cry. _

_Freddy didn't get a chance to respond because right then Mrs. Davis walked over. The harried pre-school teacher was too distracted by her charges to notice the tension between the two people seated at the table._

"_Frankie would you mind terribly taking some of the kids through the funhouse?" She asked breathlessly. "Some of them are too scared of it, so I was going to take the others to the bouncing castle. Hopefully they'll burn off some of this sugar." She ran shaking fingers through her graying hair. _

_Frankie was thankful for the interruption. She didn't want to have to explain anymore. She knew she was being a coward but she couldn't take the way his eyes kept staring into her. "Sure Mrs. D. I'll take them right now." She stood and after dumping her tray, headed off with the six kids that were nearly jumping up and down with excitement._

_Freddy watched her walk away holding little Nancy's hand. He couldn't let this happen. The more he thought about it the more he realized what an integral part Frankie had become in his life. Not just the school needed her, but him as well. It scared him more than a little. But he couldn't let her go. "Mrs. Davis, I think I'm going to go help Frankie with the funhouse if you don't mind. Somewhere like that it's probably better to have two sets of eyes."_

_The teacher agreed saying that she could handle the smaller group she had left by herself with no problems. _

_It was ten minutes later and Frankie was walking through the darkened, glow in the dark painted hallway of the funhouse. She'd told the men at the doors to make sure and not let any of the kids wander off if they decided to try and got out the exit early. It was a good thing too since the funhouse was far bigger than she'd anticipated inside. _

_She heard Quentin laughing up ahead and was about to move towards the sound when she realized she'd made a wrong turn and found herself in a mirrored room. It was disconcerting, seeing the multiple images of herself all over the place. Frankie forgot for a moment she was supposed to be watching the kids when she saw her bruised face staring back at her over and over again. The pale girl with the wounded face raised a trembling hand to the cut above her eye. _

"_It's deep enough it'll scar." A voice said from behind her, causing her to jump. Freddy stood there, holding his fedora, his blue eyes staring intently at her. He reached up with his free hand and touched the still tender mark. "It will heal though." He continued his tone gentler. "Frankie you can't let him do this to you."_

"_Fred please just don't, okay? It's not your concern." She turned from him but it didn't matter. He was in the mirrors and she saw the flicker of anger reflected in his eyes over and over again._

"_Not my concern? I'm not supposed to be worried about you?" He tossed his hat on the floor. "Really? You think that's going to work? And what happens when he does it again and that time you wind up in the ER or worse? Even if you don't come back those kids are attached to you now. They'll hear about it from someone. What happens then?" _

_He wasn't yelling at her, but hearing him like this was probably worse. Grave and serious and roiling beneath it the fact he was hurt and pissed off. But then came the worst part. "And what about me Frankie? You don't think I care? You think that you just deciding to drop out of the picture would be okay with me? Because its not. I'm not going to let you do that."_

_She felt the tears on her cheeks before she could stop them. She turned to him and sucked in a breath of air. "I'm not dragging you into this, you or the kids. I'm not going to ruin anything else…" _

"_You haven't ruined anything!" He told her, shocked at her reasoning. Didn't she see what she'd done? "Frankie you…you don't get it…" God he didn't know what to do, because it was right then when Fred Krueger realized he was in love with Frankie Jones, a seventeen year old girl. The situation was beyond difficult, it was downright impossible. But he didn't care…he only wanted her not to leave._

"_No Fred you don't get it." She wiped at her cheek. "I don't want you hurt because of me." She knew that would be the outcome. If he out of some sense of protectiveness decided to do something her father would destroy him. And Frankie knew she cared far too much for him to let that happen. _

_Fred moved forward and touched her cheek, grateful she didn't turn away from him. "Then don't leave." He said simply. He wasn't sure what to do next. She was so young…and he was, well him. He wanted to hide her away and keep her safe. He knew that much. He wanted to kiss her but that he knew he couldn't do._

_But apparently Frankie didn't know that. When she felt his fingers on her cheek and saw that look in his grey blue eyes she couldn't stop herself. It was wrong, it was a bad idea…and maybe she was just delusional. But Frankie moved too quickly for him to stop her. She kissed him for the first time, hesitant and very chaste, her lips against his for only a few seconds._

_When she pulled away she was blushing furiously and wondered if he was going to laugh or chastise her, or both. But instead he stood there, his expression haunted. Then he pulled her towards him and kissed her again, this time less chaste and for a lot longer than a few seconds. _

_Fred knew this was wrong on many levels, but he was beyond caring at this point. It was wrong for a man to beat his daughter, but her father the policeman was doing just that. So in the scheme of things, kissing a girl who was less than a year away from being a legal adult didn't seem so bad, especially when he loved her._

_Frankie on the other hand wasn't thinking beyond the fact he tasted like cherry slushie and was actually not laughing at her. His long fingers were in her hair and he smelled like after shave and funnel cake and it was making her giddy. _

_The sound of voices coming near to them made them both freeze and Freddy pulled away from her knowing that if someone caught them it would not go well. They were both breathing heavier than normal and Frankie didn't know what to say or do._

"_There she is! I told you she was in here!" Nancy said to Quentin as they came around the corner. _

"_Hey Freddy!" Quentin said loudly when he saw he was there too. "You have to come see! I found a monster!" _

_Fred managed to collect himself before he spoke, taking a gulp of air to clear his head. "A monster? Really?"_

"_Yeah! A monster! A big one!" The little boy grabbed Freddy's hand and practically dragged him out of the room. He managed to glance back at Frankie before the little boy led him around the corner._

_Nancy had stuck around though. The little girl gave her a big, blue raspberry stained smile. "Wanna see the monster?" She asked._

_Frankie nodded, not quite able to speak yet. What had just happened? Oh lord…she'd kissed him and he'd kissed her back. And there was no way she could stop this now. She looked at her reflection once more. "You're an idiot." She muttered to herself. She looked down at Nancy. "Sure, let's go see the monster."_

_The monster as it turned out was a guy in a Frankenstein costume. He didn't talk at all, and was in fact pretty intimidating. Frankie always had a soft spot for the big, bolt necked creature due to her name. So she gave him a little wave on the way out of the fun house. He seemed to contemplate her a minute then gave the barest wave back. _

_Mrs. Davis was waiting at the exit when they all piled out. Freddy was still quiet, but she felt his eyes watching her as they all headed back to the bus. It was nearly dark out now as fall had settled in. The kids were starting to crash due to a combination of sugar and exertion. Once they were all on the bus Frankie took her requisite place in the last seat in the back. Not surprisingly, after making sure everyone was settled, Freddy came to sit next to her once the bus was moving. She hadn't been looking forward to this. She shouldn't have done what she'd done. "I'm…sorry I shouldn't have…" She whispered not looking at him, but he cut her off._

"_I love you." He told her softly. _

_That made her turn around. "What?"_

"_I said I love you Frankie." Fred's expression was determined. "I want you to stay around because I love you." He took a breath, glanced around to make sure no one else was listening, and then he turned his grey blue gaze back to her, taking hold of her hand. "So are you going to stay?"_

"_Freddy…" She hesitated, letting it all sink in. If they did this they'd have to be so careful. Not one slip up. She knew what her father was capable of, she didn't think Freddy did. "I'm eighteen in 3 months."_

"_I know that." He told her, one corner of his mouth quirking up._

_She actually smiled back at him. He looked like a naughty little boy when he did that half grin. "I love you too you know."_

_His grin became a full blown smile. "So you'll stick around?" She still hadn't answered him._

_Frankie took a breath and let it out slowly. "Fred we…we've got to be really careful. I mean…"_

"_I know your dad is a cop. And I'm old enough to be your dad…well nearly." He actually looked at the floor at that. He really had no business even trying for a young girl like her. "I've got nothing to offer you except I'd do anything for you..."_

_She squeezed his hand and he glanced up at her. "But I'm not lying when I say I love you. And I'll do whatever it takes to get you away from him." The determination was back in his eyes. _

"_You're the best man I know Freddy." Frankie said softly. She'd do anything for him too she realized as she sat there next to him. "So yes, I'll stick around." _

_He wanted so badly to hold her, but he knew that would just not be possible, not where they were. He also knew he would wait until she was of age for anything beyond a kiss or a hug to take place. It was the right thing to do, and he already felt lecherous enough. So instead he quickly brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. _

_Frankie stifled a giggle at the gesture then grew serious. "We have to be careful Fred…" she said softly, glancing around._

_He nodded. "I know Frankie. And we will be, I promise. I also promise you this…the day you turn eighteen we're out of Springwood. It's the only way." He told her gravely._

_She knew he was right. Her father would never leave them alone, legal adult or not. It would besmirch whatever reputation he thought he had for his only daughter to be with a man Freddy's age who was nothing more than the handy man at a pre-school. The thought of being free of him made her heart pound wildly. She almost was afraid to believe it could really happen._

_Frankie nodded her agreement without hesitation. "Deal." She told him. _

That had been over two months ago. They had been meeting at the factory every other day, sneaking in time together. He'd joke about the day he could finally take her on a proper date. But Frankie didn't mind. She was happy just being with him, even if it was only for a few stolen hours here and there.

She rolled over curling the blankets around her and winced as she pulled her sore ribs. That part wasn't getting any easier to deal with, and Freddy was getting more and more insistent about doing something about it. Every time she told him she could hold on for those few more days he seemed to get angrier. It was getting harder for her to convince him not to leave and confront her father.

Frankie sighed and tried to get comfortable. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself good dreams. Sadly it didn't work. Instead she got a replay of a scenario that was becoming the norm during her sleeping hours. She'd been plagued by bad dreams for the past few nights, but Frankie would never remember what they'd been about. The only thing remaining would be the sick sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the tears streaking her face. Sometimes she'd wake up screaming.

This time everyone was dressed in clothes from the 19th century. She recognized the parents of the Badham Pre-School kids. Quentin's father seemed to be the default leader of the mob, for that was surely what they were. Frankie was clothed like the rest of them, her period garb a dress that came down to her ankles with lots of ruffles. They were all carrying torches except for her. That would be hard to do considering her hands were tied in front of her.

They were leading her to a town square of some kind, at the center of which was a large wooden stake with kindling spread out along its bottom. "You're going to pay girl." Alan, Quentin's father snarled as he shoved her hard towards the ominous pile of wood. "But you're not going to go first…you get to watch and see what's waiting for you."

Frankie didn't know what the man was talking about or what she'd done to deserve this either. And then she heard the voice that made her insides turn to ice.

"Bring the devil forward so that we might send him back to hell." Her father's harsh words were loud and grating as always. Frankie looked to see him dressed in stern black, some sort of uniform of authority. His thinning hair was the same pitiful comb over, and his eyes were glossy with anger and borderline insanity.

She watched horrified as the two men he commanded pulled from the shadows Fred Kruger, also dressed all in black and in clothes from another time. His face was a mask of rage and defiance and his eyes were like steel as they glared at her father.

"You are going to pay for your sins right now, here in front of all these good people whose lives you've corrupted with your very presence. And your whore is going to watch it happen so she can see what her fate is to be." Her father's lips twisted into a sick grin as he spoke.

She saw Fred's eyes narrow and then he started struggling, not to get away but to try and attack the man taunting him. "You'll not touch her again you fucking bastard." She heard him curse at her father, his voice that growling tone she'd only heard once or twice before. But this time it was deeper, deadlier. The men holding him where actually having a hard time keeping him in control. Her father laughed at him and gestured towards the pyre.

Frankie watched unable to move from the vice like grip of the man holding her as Freddy was tied to the post. He'd stopped struggling and his gaze never left that of her father. "You'll regret this." He told the man who was now holding a torch in his hand.

"No I won't." Her father smiled that sickly smile once more then tossed the torch into the wood pile at his feet.

Frankie started crying, screaming, and struggling herself. But Alan was far stronger than she was. The flames started licking at his legs and she saw him stiffen, but he didn't cry out. Instead his eyes kept glaring daggers into those of her father…who it appeared was disappointed that the man who was standing in the middle of a small inferno wasn't begging him for mercy.

The fire spread quickly and Frankie could feel the heat of it from where she stood. And it was then she could hear him start to scream. She tried to look away but her father was suddenly next to her, turning her head roughly and forcing her to watch as the man she loved died horribly in front of her. She could hear the townspeople laughing and cheering. And Frankie suddenly wished she could just die with him and be free of them.

She could only barely discern the shape of his body in the middle of the fire. It was huge and terrifyingly bright. She'd never seen a fire like it before. And then suddenly she saw his face in the middle of the flames, his blue eyes staring right into her. His skin was burned, raw and red and he reached out one burned hand towards where she stood. "Burn with me…." His rough voice called to her.

Frankie sat up gasping. She was covered in sweat and there were tears on her cheeks. She glanced around her dark room with wide eyes. Once again she couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming about, she only knew it had been a bad one, maybe the worst she'd ever had. As she tried to catch her breath she thought she smelled smoke on the air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own the real thing…only in my dreams (hubba hubba)**

**Authors Note: So I did something stupid. You may have noticed an alert (if you have one for this story) that said new chapters were added when they weren't. That's because for some reason in Chapter 1 I said that Frankie had 2 months to go before she turned 18. That was really supposed to be 2 weeks. I blame lack of sleep (shakes fist at Krueger.) But I fixed it.**

**Also the movie references that I pointed out in Chapter 2. Yes, Scream was the reason for the "scary movies" line. I had to. Sue me. And the other was the guy in the Frankenstein costume working the funhouse. That's from an actual old 80's horror film called "Funhouse". The guys a scary mutant under the Frankenstein mask and it's creepy as hell. There more references to previous Nightmare films in this chapter because I find it fun working them in **

**For those asking the question is there going to be murders of the kids….of course there are! I'm changing the plot to suit my needs in so far as you've seen, but we can't have Freddy not killing people. Just wouldn't be right. **** You've been warned…things aren't going to be sweethearts and roses for Frankie and Freddy, not by a long shot. The more I love a character they must suffer. I'm sick that way (see my other fics if you don't believe me.) And I really love Freddy.**

**Also a quick thank you to EVERYONE who's reviewed and faved this story. I had no idea you'd like it! It makes me happy to see there are others out there like me who loves The Freddy. He needs a hug and a cookie damn it!**

Chapter 3

The next day Frankie could barely concentrate at school. Senior year was a tough one in terms of classes. And while many of her friends were getting bummed by the amount of work that was involved, she was able to breeze through it. But her thoughts were troubled and she felt like something bad was waiting her just around the corner. Her lack of sleep wasn't helping.

By lunch time she was practically dragging herself to her locker, and then to the cafeteria to eat. It was a sunny day for once and she enjoyed the warmth of being outside. She could hear some of her fellow students who were standing nearby talking and it didn't take long for them to start discussing her like she was as deaf and dumb as Helen Keller.

"Did you see her yesterday in the locker room? It looked like she had gone a round with Mike Tyson."

"She said she tripped on a rock or something."

"That's not what I heard."

"What did you hear Tina?"

"I heard she goes to that S&M club downtown. You know the one that Grady said he saw Coach Schneider coming out of."

"I thought Schneider liked boys?"

"He likes anything in leather and a whip…but he prefers it to have a dick."

Frankie had had enough. They started laughing crazily while trading images that got more bizarre and gross as they went on. She walked back inside and headed to her locker for her afternoon classes pile of books.

The rest of the day wasn't much better, and Frankie found herself wishing it away so Friday would be there and she could spend her time with Freddy. He'd been talking more and more lately about when they would leave Springwood. And truthfully she hadn't been thinking about it. But today had made her realize just how much she really wanted to leave. There was nothing here for her except Freddy.

Frankie made it to the blessed sound of the dismissal bell and headed to her bike to ride home. She couldn't afford a car and had had to beg to even get a license for those rare times she got to drive. Her dad's profession allowed him spies everywhere on roads, so if by some miracle she did get to drive a car she'd be busted…in more ways than one.

When she got to where she'd left the bike chained up she found a small bouquet of roses in the milk crate she used as a basket. They were the same ones that had started blooming in the garden at Badham. She knew who'd left them there and she smiled, holding them close to her nose. They were from older bushes so they smelled even more amazing. "You're a hopeless romantic you big goof." She said to herself. He'd been careful enough to not leave them out in the open, but Frankie was still surprised that he'd done something like that. He really was getting impatient. She couldn't blame him, she was too.

She got lucky that night. Her dad was sullen and moody, but he wasn't violent. He'd even got pizza for dinner. Her luck stayed with her when he fell asleep, a can of PBR in his hand watching an old movie in the living room. Frankie quickly retreated into her room and went curled into bed.

The next day Frankie left early, finding her dad still asleep where she'd left him the night before. Her luck had held through the night as she had no bad dreams and had slept peacefully. The dreams of the past few days didn't show up, all of them the same scenario playing out in different settings. Freddy burning in front of her she unable to stop it…and her father's laughter mocking their joined screams.

School was just as tough though as the day before, maybe even worse with the knowledge that Freddy was waiting for her at the end of it. She felt an overwhelming need to see him, to know he was okay. It had been an awkward goodbye the last time.

When three o'clock came she nearly knocked down some of her fellow classmates in her haste to get to her bike. She peddled furiously to the factory, her thoughts only on the man she'd come to love and care about hoping he wasn't running late.

The fact that her thoughts were so focused on her goal was the reason she didn't notice the patrol car that had been hiding in an alleyway watching for speeders. The man behind the wheel was named Morris. The patrolman was a drinking buddy of Mark Jones and recognized his friend's daughter on sight, even though she was rocketing by him.

His beady brown eyes watched her go, his brows furrowing as he placed the coffee he'd been drinking in the cars cup holder. He was parked out in the far reaches of Springwood, the industrial area that was nearly deserted thanks to a tanking economy. There had been reports of street racers out here so he'd been the lucky guy to get this assignment of sitting on his ass and staring at empty fucking buildings. This new development though gave him something to do.

There was no reason Jones's daughter should be out there. There was nothing but random vagrants and rotting warehouse innards. But whatever she was heading to, it was obvious she was in a rush to get there. Morris decided that this might be a far more interesting assignment than just sitting there waiting for a non-existent speeder to show up. He got out of the car, locked the door and on foot followed the girl on the bike up the street.

When Frankie got to the factory she whipped around to the back. When she turned the corner her bike came to a screeching halt. There was a van parked there, one she'd never seen before. "What the…." She said softly, eyes wide.

"What do you think?" A voice asked from nearby her, causing her to nearly jump and fall off her bike.

"Argh! Freddy! Dude…you do not do that." She managed to not fall to the ground and got off the bike, leaning it against the metal wall.

Freddy couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry…you are cute when you're scared."

"And you're twisted. What do I think about what?" She asked him.

He held out a hand. "Come on and I'll show you." Fred smiled at her and she couldn't help but grin back.

He gestured to the van which she saw was probably ten years old. It had some scratches and a few rust spots, but was in good shape. "This is our ticket out of here." He told her, opening the side door. Inside there was a thin carpet on the floor, the back had been retooled with a small bed, above which was a shelf for storage. There was even a small refrigerator that was wired into the electrical system and a wall unit that held a tiny television.

"Freddy, you bought this?" She was in shock as she climbed in and looked around. The passenger and drivers chairs only had a couple rips in the fabric.

"Yep, it's a surprise for your birthday…but I couldn't wait." He climbed in behind her and took a seat on the floor where she joined him. She looked a bit dazed. He took hold of her hand again, staring down at their laced fingers. He thought his work roughened skin looked like something monstrous compared to hers, so smooth and pale. But he wasn't letting go anytime soon. Fred's voice was soft, yet sure. "We're getting out of here Frankie. You and me. We'll leave right after midnight on your birthday." His thumb traced her knuckles. "I want you safe and away from him. I want us together where we don't have to worry anymore."

"Freddy, this is…this is amazing." Frankie felt tears prickling her eyes. It was really going to happen…somehow she'd always thought it wouldn't. "How did you…"

His thin lips quirked up in the corner. "I've been saving a while. And…well…I knew a guy." He laughed. "None of that matters though, what matters is we're getting the heck out of dodge and not looking back." Fred looked into her face, seeing the tears swirling around in her gaze. He touched her cheek and let his fingertips run along her temple, over the scar that was there just near her eye. "You're my girl Frankie, and I'll die before I let him touch you again."

"Fred don't say stuff like that." She told him, the words shaky.

"I mean it." His voice took on that harder edge, his eyes turning steel grey. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Freddy rested his chin in her hair. He took a deep breath of the wildflower shampoo she used and closed his eyes.

She let him hold her, her head on his shoulder. She was always surprised by how solid he was, the years of working outdoors and manual labor having built up his slight form to compact walls of muscle. He may have looked small compared to men the size of her father, but it couldn't have been farther from the truth. The arms holding her were strong ones, and if ever he did take her dad on, it would be one hell of a fight.

Fred knew he'd do anything to make their escape out of Springwood a reality. He'd take on the whole god damn town, the entire police force that Mark Jones had on his side if need be. But he knew Frankie didn't want it that way. She didn't want him anywhere near her father. But Fred secretly wanted nothing more than to inflict every bruise, punch, and injury that the man had given to Frankie back on him ten times over.

He'd pondered it for a while, what he'd do to the man given the chance. The memory of that first time he'd seen Frankie with that black eye still made his blood boil. His arms tightened around her. "You're my girl Frankie…not his…you've never been his." He whispered against her ear, not even realizing he'd said it aloud.

"Freddy, I'll always be your girl." She told him looking up with shining eyes.

She was so lovely then it took his breath away. So young and pure…he didn't deserve her at all, and still didn't know how or why he'd won her. But she was his and no one would keep her from him for much longer. He leaned down and kissed her, not pausing to think about it, just simply needing to. He nearly laughed when he realized she was wearing Dr. Pepper lip gloss. She knew it was his favorite soda. She really was a little minx.

Then he felt her fingers curling around his neck, burrowing into his hair, her warm mouth opening just a bit beneath his, and he nearly pushed her back onto the floor of the van. Fred managed to drag himself away from her, leaning his forehead against hers. "Bad Frankie…bad."

"What did I do?" She asked, her own breath coming out in soft little pants that just made it that more difficult for him.

"Nuth…nothing. Now I think I've got snacks around here somewhere." Freddy let go of her, giving her a peck on the cheek before going to the front of the van of rummaging around his old duffle bag.

While he was doing that Frankie noticed a tattered legal pad sitting on the floor next to a pencil. She picked it up and looked at the sketch that was on it. "Hey Fred, what is this?" She asked him.

He walked back over carrying two Snickers bars and a bag of Lay's potato chips. Fridays always tended to be junk food days for them. And Freddy was a connoisseur of junk food. "Oh that…that's something I've been working on." He said handing her a candy bar.

"For what?" She asked, taking the Snickers and unwrapping it as he sat down next to her.

"It's just a tool idea." He told her, unwrapping his own chocolate. "I keep having problems with the shears for the bushes at the school. Trimming and stuff…thought this might be something that could be used instead. You can use it for other stuff too."

For some reason the sketch was making her skin crawl. But Frankie shook herself of the feeling. "Like ninja warfare? Are you actually making it?"

Freddy chewed and swallowed, raising an eyebrow at her first comment before answering. "I've started some of it. Probably no chance of finishing it though." He turned smiling and offering her the open bag of chips. "More important stuff to think about."

The uneasy feeling went away the minute she saw him smiling. She reached into the bag and pulled out a handful. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, staring out over the desolate scenery of dead factories and gutted buildings. The sun was starting to set. It was actually quite pretty in a lonely way.

"Fred?" Frankie's voice cut through the quiet.

"Yep?"

"Where do you want to go when we leave?" She asked him, as their legs dangled out the open van door.

"Oh I don't care Frankie as long as it's away from here." He tossed the candy bar wrapper into the front seat. "You have a place you want to head?" He asked.

She smiled, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "Nah, anywhere you are is home."

A nearly painful twist of emotion hit his chest at those words. Fred put his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze, not trusting himself to talk, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

Their time was over too quickly, as always. And Frankie nearly lost track again. If Freddy didn't remind her she would have been late getting home and then they'd be in trouble. They'd meet again on Monday and she'd bring one bag of clothes to stash. Then another bag on Wednesday and come Saturday night they'd be on the road and never looking back.

He hugged her tightly before she left and as always he had a hard time letting go. Thinking of her going back to the bastard's house was a lot of the problem. But Fred eventually did let her out of his arms. This time she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, surprising him. Then she dashed off on her bike. He'd wait as always, twenty minutes before leaving. He spent the time picking up the discarded wrappers and stashing them in a shopping bag.

Neither of them saw the patrol car pull away and the sickly satisfied smile on Morris's face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING BUT MY ORIGINAL PEEPS! PEEPS! (And not the marshmallow kind, even though those are yummy)**

**Authors Note: Oh we're getting close...There's angst a plenty here abouts and fluff, but there won't be time for that for much longer. So enjoy it now. Also bad language is throughout this. But people, its rate M for a reason, so don't be surprised by that.**

**Also, I kept Nancy's last name as Thompson before, even though they changed it in the new movie (which is where this is set.) Her last name in the new film is Holbrook, but I'm sorry…she'll always be Nancy Thompson. So there! READ ON! Reviews are crack and I need my fix! All for you gentle readers! All for you!**

Chapter 4

Mark Jones was sitting at a bar stool and drinking his third beer when Morris showed up. Jones was out of uniform but when Morris came in he was still in his, and actually still on shift. But he knew what he'd seen wasn't something that could wait until later.

"Mark," He said coming up alongside his friend, "I've got a question."

Mark looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and took a pull off his beer. "The hell kind of question is it?"

"What's your daughter got to do with Fred Krueger?" Morris looped his thumbs in his belt loops and waited for a response.

"That the little fucker who works at the school right?" Jones was already buzzed, so it took him a moment to remember that was in fact the case. "Yeah, that's who he is." He answered his own question. "She volunteers there."

"The school over off of Industry Way?" Morris cocked an eyebrow.

"Hell no…why the hell would you think it was over in that trash pit?" Mark drank the last of his bottle and motioned for another one.

"Because that's where she was meeting Krueger when I saw her." Morris answered.

Jones slammed the empty bottle down so hard it broke on the wooden bar. "What the fuck did you say?"

"I said that she was meeting Krueger…alone…over off Industry Way." Morris leaned back against the bar. "I was watching for speeders and she came by on her bike peddling like a lunatic. I followed her and there was Krueger waiting behind that old factory on the corner."

"What the hell were they doing?" Mark wiped his hand with a napkin, somehow not cutting it open on the glass.

"I couldn't hear em, but they seemed pretty chummy from what I saw. They were eating candy bars and talking." Morris looked confused himself. It was just odd. The little twerp had always given him the creeps. So he had no idea why a girl like Frankie would choose to be around him at all.

"Chummy huh?" Mark had a look on his face that wasn't pleasant. His eyes grew hard, fearsome, enough that Morris backed away a step. "How chummy?"

"Pretty friendly." Morris replied.

"Fucking jailbait friendly? I'm gonna kill that little slut…she's just like her mother." Mark practically growled. When the bartender brought over his next beer he ripped it out of his hand and drank half of it down, breathing heavily.

Morris out of a late to the game sense of responsibility decided to try and to calm Mark down. "Hey, she's just a kid Mark..."

Jones's eyes glared at him a moment, and then something slid into place behind them. Something dark and terrifying, even worse than the anger that was there before. He took another drink of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's just a kid…" He muttered, a sickly smile twisting his face. He turned to the bartender. "Dale, bring me the phone." The pudgy man nodded and headed off.

Morris peered at his friend curiously. "What are you gonna do?" He asked.

"Me, I'm not gonna have to do anything." Mark Jones's laugh was just as disturbing as the light in his eyes. "I'm just going to make a phone call."

Morris's face grew even more confused. "Who you calling? I don't think that Krueger has a phone."

"I'm not calling his sorry ass." Mark snarled, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. "But after I'm done, that son of a bitch will wish he'd never set foot in this town." He'd never liked the way he'd caved to Frankie when she'd begged him to volunteer at the Badham School. He'd eventually just said yes to shut her up. If she wanted to waste her time fucking around with little snot nosed brats what did he care?

The first time he'd set eyes on Fred Krueger was when he'd seen him outside the school one day, running around with the kids and acting like a big asshole, at least in Mark's opinion. He'd always thought the dumb shit was a retard. But this put a whole new light on things. His daughter wasn't going to be some easy lay for the fucker. Krueger had no idea who he was messing with. And now he was going to find that out.

A battered green rotary phone was placed next to his beer. The nervous looking bartender gave his customer a wary glance, heading off to take care of some of his other regular customers. He'd seen Mark Jones in many different states of mind, most of them angry or inebriated, usually both. But he'd never seen the pure menace the guy was exuding right now…and it disturbed him.

The smile stayed on Mark's face as he dialed the number for Alan Smith. Smith was the perfect person for this to work. He was worked with kids and his son was one of the students at Badham. Before he'd settled down he'd been a bad ass troublemaker and ran with Mark and his co-harts in their younger days. He was also gullible and a stupid. Mark had banged nearly every girl Alan had had as a girlfriend during high school, and to this day, Alan was none the wiser.

The third ring came over the line and then the deep, resonant voice of Alan Smith was asking "Hello?"

"Alan, its Mark Jones." Mark's voice was steady and concerned. That practiced cop voice he'd worked on his entire career.

"Hi Mark, long time no speak." Alan's voice was cordial, but there was a waver of suspicion. "What's the occasion?"

"I've got a question for you Alan, and it's not going to be pleasant." Mark smirked as Morris's face grew more uneasy.

Alan's tone grew grim. "Okay Mark…let's hear it."

"How has Quentin been lately?"

That was nearly all it took. After the seed was planted with a few more vague questions and some prodding Mark sat back and let the parents of the Badham School do the work for him.

Of course when he got home to Frankie it took every bit of will he had not to throw her into a wall and beat the ever loving snot out of her. She'd get hers later though. It wouldn't do for her to warn Krueger that he knew anything. He was just going to set back and watch the bastard get ran out of town. Then he'd teach her something about respect.

Freddy on the other hand didn't know what was happening. When Monday came around half the kids weren't there. It concerned him. He thought they might have all caught the same bug. Mrs. Davis looked strange too, worried. When he'd asked after the kids she'd told him that all their parents had called in to say they weren't going to be there. He spent the day pruning and raking the yard outside, unnerved by how quiet it was and wishing that Frankie was there to talk to.

Nancy Thompson, Quentin Smith, Christie Fowles, and a few of the other absent kids were being asked very confusing questions by their parents, questions that had their roots in a tangled deadly weed planted by Mark Jones. The kids answered their parents as best they could, sensing the fear and unease that was suddenly in their parent's hearts and minds. It spread to the children themselves, growing quickly and sprouting in the form of tears and sobs. They didn't know what they were supposed to be afraid of, but if mommy and daddy were afraid then they should be too…that only seemed right.

Late that afternoon Frankie came over to the school and sensed that same emptiness that Freddy had. She had a small bag of clothes with her and she headed down into the basement to find Freddy staring forlornly at a cup of coffee.

"Hey…" She said softly and he looked up startled.

"Hey!" His blue eyes lit up a bit. "I lost track of time." He told her standing up and walking over to her.

"That's my job." She smiled briefly then looked concerned. "What's going on Fred? I didn't see hardly anybody around?"

Fred sighed. "Half the kids are out sick I guess. It's weird. Mrs. Davis doesn't know what's going on either. I just hope they are okay."

Frankie shuddered then moved to hug him. He hugged her back tight, glancing up to make sure that the teacher or anyone else didn't look down. He let her go reluctantly. "So first bag of loot?" He asked her.

Frankie nodded and handed the ratty backpack to him. "I've only got another bag of clothes and bag of just…stuff. That's it."

"Perfect, we'll have plenty of room." He walked over and put the bag safely under his bed. "Only a few more days kid." He told her smiling, knowing he was baiting her.

"Hey!" She punched him in the arm. "You'd better cut that out after we leave."

He stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, I'M the kid." She muttered.

Fred laughed then sat back down where she joined him at the small folding table that was his dining room. "So since there's nothing much for you to do upstairs, you want to play some cards or something?"

Frankie glanced over at his old record player. "Actually I have a better idea."

"What is that?" He asked her looking curious.

"Well I realized something today." She stood up and started shuffling through the records he had stacked neatly next to the turntable. "I'm going to miss prom."

Fred winced at that fact, sadness leaking into his blue gaze. He'd not even thought about that. "Oh…"

She turned finding the record she was looking for and gave him a quick smile. "No pouting." Frankie put the record on the player and flipped the switch that started it lowering down to play. "But I refuse to not get one dance before I leave this town…so come over here."

Fred's eyes widened. "Dancing? You want to dance? With me?"

"Yes doofus." She recognized a deer in headlights when she saw one. With a theatrical sigh she walked over, grabbed both his hands, and dragged him to the middle of the basement floor. "You, me, dancing. Now." She ordered, placing his hands on her hips and wrapping her arms around his neck.

The Everly Brothers started crooning about how all they had to do was dream. Freddy smiled slightly. "This song makes me think of you…" He said, actually blushing and surprised by her choice. Frankie grinned back at him, and then rested her cheek against his shoulder. The sweater was soft from age and held the scent of the flowers that were outside he'd been carrying today.

Fred leaned his chin against her hair and moved his arms to wrap around her waist. He was not a dancer by any stretch of the imagination, but he wouldn't let her down if this was what she wanted. So he moved them in a little swaying motion in a circle, holding her close. He smiled as he heard her humming along to the music, the action causing her warm breath to tickle his skin through the knit of his sweater.

The song was over too soon, and then the visit followed suit. Freddy watched Frankie start to climb the stairs out of the basement, and a feeling washed over him. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned and looked at him strangely. He gazed up at her, his eyes intense. Then he placed both hands on either side of her face and kissed her like a man possessed. Whatever had inspired it, Frankie felt it come over her as well. She buried her fingers in his soft brown hair and kissed him back. She nearly stumbled down the stairs as he pulled her back level with him.

His thin lips took hers, as if trying to memorize the feel and texture of her mouth. His tongue swept in and tasted every flavor that was her to remember until the next time. It was the kiss of a man who somehow knew it might be his last, even if he didn't realize it. When he pulled away from her they both were panting, skin flushed and eyes staring in a glazed way at each other.

"Freddy…" She managed to say, breathless. Her head rested against his chest because he'd clamped his arms around her like a vice.

"Come back to me…" He said in a distant, rough voice.

As she looked up at him, Frankie didn't know if he even saw her. "I will, you know I will." She touched his chin with tentative fingers, nearly afraid at the way he was acting. Freddy looked odd for a moment, as if he was coming back to himself from somewhere far away. He pursed his lips and nodded, then let her go.

She gave him one quick kiss to his cheek and headed up the stairs. She could feel him watching her until she disappeared from his view. And even then, as she made her way home she could feel his turquoise eyes on her; just as they where in her dream that night, staring out from an inferno.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pretty Freddy dolls. And the idea of a Frankie.**

**Authors Note: Well now the fun starts. You all knew this had to happen. NOES is not a happy story. So yeah, "the scene" is here. (Cries and cuddles her Freddy doll) **

Chapter 5

Fear is powerful. Its one of those emotions that once stirred within a person festers and infects not just their own soul but others around them. It's like a disease spread not by germs, but by doubts and words…by ideas and suspicion. And the outbreak in Springwood was rampant within only a couple of days.

The parents of the Badham school kids were outraged and in their minds right about what Fred Krueger had done to their children. There was no actual "physical" proof…but they knew in their hearts that the man was a monster. They didn't want to wait for any evidence to appear and they didn't want to put their kids through a trial which would only scar them more. The mob mentality was in high gear, and the fear that Mark Jones had created was quickly roiling over into dangerous levels…far more dangerous than even he could have imagined.

Wednesday afternoon Frankie dropped off her final bag of clothes. Her father had been in a choice state the night before. He'd said a few things that had put her on edge. Slurring words like "You and you're boyfriend are gonna get a rude awakening." And then slapping her across the face when she'd asked wide eyed what he was talking about. Thankfully that had been the end of it, but it had still scared her, enough that she was tempted to ask Freddy if they could leave that night.

When she saw him he looked awful. There were circles under his eyes and he was pale, paler than usual. And he was nervous too. "Frankie there's something wrong, something very wrong." Were the first words he said to her, then he saw her cheek where the skin was red and held the very discernable mark of fingers on flesh. "What the hell?" He moved to her side and placed his own fingers against the marks.

"It's not important…" Frankie tossed her bag on his mattress and then took hold of his hand.

"God damn it…" His voice grew hoarse. "He doesn't even care who sees it now does he?" He sighed and pulled her into his arms. "Par for the course right now I guess." He muttered the words into her neck.

"Fred what's going on?" Frankie asked him.

He pulled back to look at her, his thumb tracing along her jaw. "Four more kids called out today. I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but Mrs. Davis is acting really skittish." He swallowed, his eyes glancing towards the stairs, then to the floor. "When I went out the other day to pick up the mulch for the yard out back…I felt like someone was following me." Frankie's eyes grew wide, her fingers clutching at the sleeves of his shirt.

Freddy slumped back against the wall. He kept his arms around her. Frankie was an anchor to what was good about this world, what kept him sane. He needed her more now than ever. He'd had enough of Springwood and the people who called it home. It had never really been a home to him. The closest he'd come to one was with the kids at Badham…and now something was going on to ruin even that. He knew it in his heart. He'd not even have a chance to say goodbye to those kids. Nancy, Quentin, Chris…they weren't going to be there on his last day.

"That's not all of it though." He let his head fall back against the cracked cement, his blue eyes staring up at the equally cracked ceiling. "The clerk, Donna…she's always been nice to me…always smiled and asked about the school whenever I stopped in for stuff. Today she stared me down like she could kill me. She didn't say one word, practically threw my change back in my face. The whole damn store was like that…"

Frankie trembled and he held her closer. "Fred, let's go…let's leave tonight." She whispered against his chest.

"We can't Frankie…" He wanted to punch the wall in his frustration. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I…I really feel like I'm being watched. If I try to take you out of here now, I know we'll be stopped. At least on Friday night they can't legally say anything. And I won't put you at risk more than you already are with your father." The last words he nearly growled.

"I know this has something to do with him. I'm not sure what…" She said and buried her face in his warm neck, inhaling the familiar scents his old sweater always carried.

"If that's the case…then we really need to be careful." He moved his hands up and down her spine. "You really need to be careful." He kissed her forehead, squeezing her tightly once more. "Here, I have something for you." Fred told her, letting her go and moving back to the table.

Frankie followed him over and he took her hand and placed something cool and metal in her palm. She looked down and saw that it was a metal keychain in the shape of a red rose with a single key attached. "That's to the van. I wanted you to have your own copy."

She looked up at him and felt tears pricking her eyes for some reason. "We're leaving together…" Frankie said softly.

He gave her a small smile, reaching over and touching her cheek. "We are…but it makes me feel better knowing you have it. We each have a key. You know, it's ours."

She gave him a tiny smile back. Frankie still wished they could leave that night. Just hop in and go…but he was right. Her dad probably had them watching the roads. And the sad reality was, if there weren't any kids in school there was no excuse for her to be there either.

Fred kissed her goodbye, another of those desperate meetings of lips and tongues that he couldn't help or stop. It took another great feat of will to let her leave. He wished they could go that night too. Part of him thought it might work, as long as they stayed on the back roads. The voice in his head was convincing, but not convincing enough. They would still wait for midnight, her birthday. They'd meet at the van. He told her where he'd parked it, a few blocks from the school. She nodded in agreement but she didn't look happy about it.

He watched her leave again, and Frankie thought his blue eyes looked haunted as they watched her go. "I love you." She told him, breaking the rule but not caring as she stood on the third step from the door. She felt tears still swimming in her eyes again.

Freddy gave her a sad smile. "I love you too kid."

The attempt to get a rise out of her had the intended effect. She smiled, shaking her head at him. Then she left, the door closing behind her.

It was the next day. Mrs. Davis gave him the sad news that all the kids were absent. He'd wondered if that would happen. Fred told her he'd work on finishing up the tiny garden that they had planted to teach the kids about vegetables and nature. It was the last thing he wanted to complete before he and Frankie left. The teacher looked at him strangely, as if wondering why he'd even want to bother. It was obvious to Fred she was worried about her job.

He went to work anyway, putting on a pair of tattered old grey coveralls since it was cold and he was going to get covered in dirt. It was actually good for him, he realized. The labor was taking his mind off of whatever the hell was going on in Springwood. The color of the overcast sky reminded him of Frankie's eyes when she was mad about something. It made him smile as he tilled the dirt up into mounds that would allow easier planting. He started humming the melody to "Poison Ivy."

Before he knew it, it was dusk. He'd almost finished the whole garden, but he needed some wire for the tomato plants and one more bag of fertilizer. He sighed wearily. He had nothing better to do that night. Freddy headed into the small shed that held all of his tools and grabbed the keys to the schools beat up pick-up from the hook on the wall. The thing was ancient and even had a couple of holes in the floorboards. The worst part was the radio didn't work.

The drive to the hardware store was uneventful, except for that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He thought he saw a familiar sedan following closely behind him. He parked the truck and went inside, glancing back towards the street. The sedan was gone. Mr. Craven wasn't as abusive as Donna. He was in his late 70s and could barely hear anything. Freddy paid the man for the few supplies he was picking up and was rewarded with a "Have a good night son." It was a nice change.

He put the bag and the wire in the bed of the truck and turned to get in the drivers side when he heard the sound of tires on asphalt. The sedan was turning around a corner a block up the street, and heading towards him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see who was driving and if he knew them. But he quickly decided he'd be better off just getting in the truck and leaving.

Fred climbed in and took a deep breath, peering in his rearview mirror as he turned the key in the ignition. Yes, the car was still there, and it had been joined by another one. A tingle of fear went up his spine. He pulled out into the street and started driving. After a few blocks he decided to try something, to find out if for a fact he was just being paranoid or if he truly was being followed. Freddy turned the truck towards Industrial Way. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to be heading out there. So if they did follow him, he would know the truth.

They followed him, much to his dismay. Fred felt his heart start beating faster and that slight tingle of fear grew to a full blown sickening feeling that spread throughout his chest. He was looking in the rear view mirror which is why he didn't see the other car, a mini van, screech to a halt in front of him, blocking him. He slammed on his breaks the minute he saw it there, stopping only a foot from the side door. "What the hell?" He said aloud, realizing suddenly that the truck had stalled.

He saw the angry faces of people peering out from the windows of the van and then from the cars behind him. The faces of people he knew. The faces of the Badham school kid's parents. Fred had no idea what they were angry about or why they were trying to scare him like this. He desperately tried to start the truck but it was no use. Alan Smith's voice rang out in the night. "Come on out of there Krueger!"

Freddy's eyes grew wide. Instinct took over. He was alone out here and he was outnumbered. These people did not look like they were in a mood to talk or to explain what they were pissed off about. He thought of Frankie…and he wondered what her father was doing to her right then. That thought spurred him to move. If something happened to him, who'd be there for her? Who'd help her get out of this lunatic town? Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and then jumped out of the door, running towards the warehouses, praying they couldn't follow him.

He wasn't so lucky. He heard their tires squealing as they turned fast, heading towards him. Freddy's legs pumped hard on the uneven ground, he jumped over old debris and pipes that had rusted over from years in the elements. Adrenaline was racing through his system, his eyes were wide terrified. Fred had no idea why this was happening, but he knew that these people wanted blood. What had he done? What in god's name did they think he'd done?

He turned a corner, the eerie landscape looking more and more like a graveyard as the night fell. Fred was lucky that he knew this area or he'd have not even made it as far as he had. He saw the building where he and Frankie would meet and quickly turned towards it, the cars racing behind him nearly on top of him. Rushing inside one of the side entrances, Fred closed the door and held it tight from the other side. He tried desperately to catch his breath as the angry shouts of the parents met his ears. "Come on out you sick bastard!" Alan Smith's deep voice resonated throughout the empty building through the many broken windows.

"What do you think I did? I didn't do anything?" He tried to ask them…but his only reply was the yanking on the door and the thudding of fists on the metal that was his only protection.

He heard it then…the yells by one of the parents "My kid you fucking sicko…you touched my kid!" Oh my god…they thought he'd abused their kids. But he'd never do that. What the hell had started this? And why didn't they listen to him? Jesus he'd been around their kids for a year or more. He'd lived next to them for over ten years. Why weren't they listening? Then another disturbing realization came over him…Frankie's dad. She'd as good as said it "I know this has something to do with him. I'm not sure what…"

Now Fred knew what had been going on…too late but he knew. Frankie's dad, "Mr. Policeman", "Mr. Trust me I'm the Law even though I beat my kid." He knew. He knew about him and Frankie. He knew and this was his fucked up way of stopping it. Even though he'd been the good guy, even though he'd waited and hadn't touched her like that…waited like a decent man should. This is what he got for it. That bastard had ruined his name, had ruined him. And those people out there had bought it, hook line and sinker. Not even trying giving him the benefit of the doubt, they would believe the words of that bastard over him. He knew it as sure as the sun rose in the morning, Mark Jones was the reason he was hiding like a trapped rat in this building. And god only knew what he was going to do to Frankie.

Suddenly the pulling on the door stopped. Maybe they'd left and gave up? Fred didn't think he'd get that lucky…but there was always a chance. He waited another couple of heartbeats, then moved slowly away from the door. Maybe there was a back way out? Maybe he could sneak around and head to the van. It would be a hell of a walk, but it was better than getting the crap beat out of you. Then he'd find Frankie wherever she was, and they'd leave that night. Screw waiting.

But there was no way out, the door wouldn't open, it was locked. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. Eyes darting about he tried to find something, anything that might help him out of this. But there was nothing…nothing but the pipes, rust, and debris.

Then he heard Alan's voice once more. "This is for my son!" followed by breaking glass and something glowing landing next to him. Fire, fire that spread quicker than anything he'd ever seen. He let out a cry as the flames moved as if alive, devouring everything around him. It ate at the floor, the ceiling, walls…and Freddy suddenly knew what hell looked like and felt like as the heat hit him with the force of a fist.

"Come on out Krueger!" The voices cried and he wondered in part of his brain that wasn't scared senseless how the fuck they expected him to do that when they had trapped him inside?

Fear and anger fought for dominance inside him. He was terrified by the fire. But it matched the rage that was starting to grow in him perfectly. Freddy hated the people outside that door; he hated the kids who obviously lied too. They'd had to have asked them if he had done something to them. And they had obviously said yes, he had. They'd lied…and now…now he was going to die. That fact was obvious too. Fred Krueger felt his hate and anger grow in intensity just as the fire did…burning and consuming, taking over. He cried out as the flames touched his work boots, feeling the flesh start to blister inside.

In the middle of the chaos he thought of Frankie. The only pure thing…the good thing…that he was going to lose. He'd waited, they both had. They were supposed to escape together. But that wasn't going to happen now. He saw her pale eyes, her sweet smile. He tried to hold onto the image of her in his mind even now.

He screamed as the flames found the fabric of his jumpsuit, and he tore it away, his red and green sweater a stark contrast to the bright orange and yellows that were taking over. She was going to be alone. Her father would win…and she would be alone. Her father and the people of Springwood had won. The rage fought, over taking the fear and winning…but there was still one other emotion there, even in the chaos…even as the flames erupted around him. Fred Krueger screamed one last time "FRANKIE!"

And then the windows exploded outward, releasing hell into the Springwood night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO! **

**Authors Note: Please don't kill me but there is no Freddy in this chapter. This is what we call the set up. After this chapter we're going to be hopping forward into present day and 13 years later during the events of the movie. Until then, I give you tasty heartbreak and angst as performed by Miss Frankie Jones.**

Chapter 6

A few miles away a young woman sat up straight in her bed and screamed "FREDDY!" She was sweating, shaking. Frankie barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up what little food was in her stomach. She shook as the tremors slowly left her, laying in a fetal position on the floor. There was something wrong…

When she was able to, Frankie stood and washed out her mouth with a glass of water, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror. She may be younger than Freddy was, but right then Frankie thought she looked older than a mummy. Her pale blue eyes had dark circles beneath them, her skin was white as death and her light brown hair was hanging limp and lifeless. She felt worse than she looked, which was saying something. The red marks were fading from her cheek at least.

On unsteady legs she made her way back into her tiny bedroom. From beneath her pillow she pulled the rose keychain, squeezing it tightly in her hand. She'd decided, even if she had to tie him to the hood of the van, they were leaving tomorrow. There would be no more waiting.

That morning Frankie skipped school. She went through the motions of going, but instead of packing her schoolbooks she placed the few possessions she wanted to take with her in her backpack. Then on her bike she turned the opposite way and headed to Badham. When she got there she saw no one out front in the yard, and no sign of a single car in the small parking lot. Mrs. Davis wasn't even there. The building seemed sinister in the chilly morning fog, with not even one bird making a noise.

She rode her bike around back and leaned it against her normal place near the door to the basement. The door to it was locked, but Freddy had long ago shown her where the spare key was hidden. So she got it from under the medium sized rock it was stowed under and unlocked the door. She headed down and found his room empty. They typically neat bed was still neat, and hadn't even been slept in. There wasn't a sign he'd even been there the previous night. Then Frankie noticed the door to the ancient locker he had for a closet was slightly open.

Hesitantly she walked over, and pushed the door open with a loud creaking sound. His clothes were gone, even the scuffed up pair of wingtips he had for dress shoes. Frankie's lips parted in shock. Had he left without her? Her heart suddenly sped up and she felt sick to her stomach, just as she had when she'd woken up that morning. She bit her lip to stop it from quivering like a little girl. His record player was gone too…and his lone box of records. In fact everything that was anything to do with Fred Krueger had vanished from the basement that he'd called home for as long as she'd known him.

Frankie backed away, her hip knocking into the small folding table where she'd seen him only hours before. Tears were brimming in her eyes. He wouldn't have left without her. He couldn't be gone…

"Frankie?" A voice came from behind her on the stairs making her jump. She turned wide eyes to find Mrs. Davis standing there, looking as though she hadn't slept all night. Her normally neat graying hair was wild and messed up. She looked even more nervous than she had the last time she'd seen her.

"Mrs. Davis…" Frankie took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow. "I…I was looking for Freddy. I was hoping he could give me some pointers on my botany essay before class this morning." It was a lame lie, and she knew it. But the older teacher didn't look like she'd even notice if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Oh…oh dear." Mrs. Davis stuttered as she came down the last few steps. "I'm afraid that is not going to happen Frankie."

Frankie felt her stomach flip over. She gripped one of the chair backs so the woman wouldn't see her hand tremble. "Why is that ma'am?"

"Freddy left town last night sweetheart. I…I just got word this morning from Alan Smith." Confusion crossed the teachers face. "I'm surprised…your father hadn't said anything to you…but maybe he doesn't know yet."

Frankie bit back the sob in her throat. There was something wrong here, but she couldn't figure it out. He wouldn't have left without a word. And why would the police know anything…unless her father had done something. Jesus, he'd said he'd felt like he was being followed. "Why…" Frankie licked her lips, willing the words to come out. "Why would my father know anything? Why would Alan Smith tell you Freddy had left town?"

"Oh my dear girl…" Mrs. Davis started crying, and Frankie was suddenly horrified. What the hell had happened? What was going on?

Mrs. Davis slumped into one of the chairs, her eyes gazing around the basement. Her expression was one of disgust and sadness. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. I had no idea, none. He always seemed like such a nice man. So caring to the children and so polite, he was such a hard worker…"

Frankie couldn't take much more of this. "Mrs. Davis, what is going on?"

The other woman sighed heavily, wiping at the tears that had spilled on her cheeks. "He was abusing the children…doing things with them. I…I didn't see the signs. But Mr. Smith, he told me that Quentin had told him. And then Nancy, little Chris, and even Jesse. They all told their parents…" She turned her now puffy eyes to Frankie to find the young woman looking pale as a sheet.

"Frankie, dear…" Mrs. Davis reached over and touched her hand to comfort her, finding the skin quite cold. "He didn't….well…I guess you were too old for him to be interested in you that way."

Frankie wanted to punch the woman suddenly, or slap her. It took all of her will not to. She pulled her hand away and turned quickly, trying to control her breathing, trying not to fall to her knees and scream. She knew it was a lie. All of it was a complete fucking lie. But no one would believe her. Why would the kids lie? Why would the parents believe them? Where the hell had this all come from? The tears started then, and they wouldn't stop. She stumbled backward and fell hard into the other plastic chair, sobbing so harshly she thought she might choke.

"Frankie, sweetheart I'm so sorry. I know you were friends with him. You two where always helping me…and I know this is such a shock. I had no idea either." The teacher came around and patted her on the back, trying to soothe her.

Frankie had buried her head in her arms. She wanted to tell Mrs. Davis to go to hell and leave her alone. But she couldn't even summon that. She didn't know what to do. "Why did he leave…" She mumbled aloud, not even thinking.

"He was discovered dear, and before any of the parents could report him…he left." Mrs. Davis made it sounds so plausible.

Frankie realized the woman knew absolutely nothing of what really happened. She was on her own….literally. But she had a good idea that it all started with her father. The drunken slip up of him telling her she had a boyfriend. Freddy being watched, and the lies that had suddenly shown up. Fred would never hurt those kids. Frankie knew this, but something had convinced the parents, and where parents led, kids followed like lemmings. And who else would be more convincing than an officer of the law when it came to telling someone their kid was being diddled by the gardener?

It took a while but she finally convinced Mrs. Davis to leave her alone in the basement. She reassured the teacher that Fred had never done anything to her, and it killed her a little inside when she realized it just emphasized the woman's idea that he liked far younger girls than her. The thought made her want to vomit all over again.

Frankie gazed around the basement room again. She saw that her bag was still under the bed where they had stashed it on her last visit. She started crying all over again. No wonder he'd left her…the more she thought about it, the more Frankie realized he was really gone. She was the reason the rumors had started, her father had to be the one that started them, the bastard. And if she was in the same predicament, angry parents getting ready to throw her to the wolves, she'd leave too. She held her now throbbing head in her hands and cried even harder. They had been so close…

Maybe he hadn't left town yet though…the thought came to her suddenly. Maybe he was just hiding…driving around in the van and looking for her? The slim hope was all she had, and so Frankie grabbed hold of it and refused to let go.

Wiping her eyes she stood up and grabbed her bag from the floor and headed up the stairs. She placed it in the basket of her bike and secured her backpack on her shoulders. Without a glance to Mrs. Davis she peddled out into the street and headed towards one of the only two places he might be, if he was still around Springwood.

The first place she headed was their usual meeting place in Industry Way. When Frankie came into sight of the building she realized something had happened…and her bike skidded to a halt. Her eyes looked at the charred, blackened bricks near the now blown out windows. There was still the scent of acrid smoke in the air.

That now familiar sick feeling washed over her. She didn't want to go inside…Her mouth grew dry and her pale eyes flicked around at the dying landscape. Her hands gripped the handlebars so tightly her knuckles turned white. There was no sign of the van here, and she knew deep down that there wouldn't be. She couldn't look at the building without her chest hurting, similar to a fist grabbing hold of her heart and squeezing.

"Freddy…what happened…" She asked aloud. All the response she got was a breeze carrying the faint scent of smoke.

There was only one other place even worth looking. And so Frankie peddled back towards Badham. He'd be a fool to still be the few blocks down from the school. But no one knew about their plans, nor did they know about the van. At least she'd told no one about it. So when she pulled around the corner and saw it still parked where Freddy had said he left it, she was surprised…and then afraid.

She got off her bike and walked the few remaining feet to the driver's side and wasn't shocked to find it empty. Frankie looked around the quiet neighborhood and saw that no one was paying any attention to her. She looked back at the van, examining it, not sure why she was bothering. But she was disturbed to find it didn't even seem to have been moved since it had been parked there a few days earlier.

She started shaking again. If he'd left town…why wouldn't he have taken the van? How else did he leave? He wouldn't have taken the schools truck, not when he had this. So where the hell was he? Frankie leaned her head against the driver's side window and tried to breathe normally. Too many thoughts were clamoring for her attention, too many ideas of what had happened to the man she loved and who was now public enemy number one in Springwood.

Frankie reached into her pocket and pulled out the key Fred had given her. Taking a deep breath she moved over to the side door, slipped it in the lock and turned. It opened easily. Inside the van was just as she'd seen it before. Fred had even added pillows and a blanket to the bed in the back. There were even a couple grocery bags of "road food." She tried not to start crying again at the sight.

Leaning her bike against the van she walked inside and sat down in the passenger seat. Her throat choked up as she glanced over to where he would have been setting, imagining the goofy smile on his face as they sang badly along to the radio. Frankie wiped away the new tears that were flowing down her cheeks. She checked around for a sign, for anything to tell her where he might be or if he had been there. But it only looked very nice and clean. No trash laying about, no receipts or notes. Nothing to give her a clue as to where he might have gone or what happened. She decided obvious would be next and so she opened the glove box. She stopped breathing all together as she saw what was inside, her eyes growing as big as saucers.

With shaking fingers she reached and pulled out a small box. A box, the kind made for only one thing. She held it tightly, her eyes closing. She swallowed, and forced her self to look at it. Then she opened it. Sitting in the center was a small plain gold band with a tiny sliver of a diamond in the middle. The sound that came from her throat was part gasp and part sob.

That fist was back around her heart and she couldn't breathe at all. Because Frankie realized at that moment something very bad had happened to Freddy. He wasn't coming back, she knew that too. He wouldn't have left her, not with this sitting there, waiting to be found. Frankie could almost hear his line of "Hey, hand me that map out of the box, I need to find something." And there it would be waiting for her.

"Fred…what did they do?" She whispered to nothing. She had nothing. He was gone. Frankie couldn't go back to her father, not ever. Not knowing that he had something to do with whatever happened. She'd have to leave because he'd kill her if he thought for a moment she suspected anything. If he thought she knew and would try to expose him for the liar he was…she'd wind up as good as dead.

Her hands were trembling as she took the ring out of the box and slid it on her left hand. It fit perfectly. She wiped her eyes again, and shut the box, placing it back into the glove compartment. Taking a deep breath she stood and reached out into the street, pulling her bike into the interior of the van and placing it on the floor. Then she slid the door shut with a satisfying click.

Frankie sat down in the driver's seat and stuck the key in the ignition. The van started smoothly and she saw that Freddy had even filled it full of gas already. That was good since she had maybe three hundred dollars that she'd saved up and brought with her. It would get her somewhere other than Springwood, and that's all she wanted right then, away.

Frankie put the van in gear and took the side streets until she reached the city limits of Springwood. She thanked whatever was looking out for her that she hadn't run into Mark Jones or any of his lackeys or spies. No one knew the van she was sure, or it would have disappeared along with Freddy's belongings too.

When she drove over the city limits she looked back in the rearview mirror one last time. Springwood was disappearing behind her. Frankie's eyes were hard as she glared back at the hateful town. Somewhere in her heart she knew that Springwood would forget Freddy Krueger, would sweep him under its rug and never think on him again. They would cover up his ever being there. But Frankie Jones would remember, she'd remember every single thing about him. And she'd remember how this was the day Springwood took from her the only thing that ever mattered and left her with nothing but those memories.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: Still don't own anything except for Frankie and anyone you don't know.**

**Authors Note: So now we are going into the movie proper. And because I'm wanting to not recreate every single thing we know happened in the movie, I'm starting this after the death of Chris. Cause really…she was boring (sorry Chris fans, if there are such things.) And also I thought Jesse's death was perfect and can't be improved upon. This is testament to JEH and his awesome creepy factor. **

**So we're starting there. I'm taking parts of the film and new parts I've made and mixing them together to make my own yummy drink (so to speak.) I'm curious as to what you think of this so let me know if you like it.**

**IMPORTANT THING IS IMPORTANT: CHECK OUT MY PROFILE WHERE I HAVE ADDED ARTWORK BY THE TALENTED MADDARLIKE WHO CREATED A PORTRAIT OF FREDDY AND FRANKIE! PREBURN! YAY FOR TALENT FAR GREATER THAN MINE! THANK YOU !**

Chapter 7

13 Years and 3 Nightmares later…

Quentin Smith was tired. Only that didn't really do how he was feeling justice. He was to the breaking point of exhaustion and his eyes felt as though cotton soaked in alcohol had been shoved into them and left there. He was on night number three of staying awake, and he was nearing the bottom of his prescription bottle, and had gone through two boxes of Red Bull. The eight cans sat atop his desk like dead soldiers who'd lost the battle. He could relate.

Quentin rubbed his eyes and groaned. He needed to stay awake because there was no way he could let Nancy down. Jesse was in jail and Chris was dead. Dean was dead. And no one else really knew what was going on but Quentin. He drank a last swallow of liquid caffeine and added another solider to the line up, then leaned back in his chair, running shaking fingers through his already messy hair.

The man with the knives for fingers…the man who seemed familiar…Quentin's brow furrowed as he tried to picture the scarred and burned face in his mind. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, to ponder the nightmare that had plagued him over the last few nights when he was this tired. It was like asking the guy to come right into his brain so he could cut it open and scoop it out. But Quentin needed to do something. He had to do something because Nancy needed him. He wasn't a hero, but he would try his best to keep her safe.

Quentin didn't know he'd fallen asleep in his chair, thinking about Nancy's big dark eyes until he felt the chill night wind on his face. He opened his own eyes and found himself not sitting in his chair back in his bedroom, but swinging back and forth on an old rusty swing set. It was dark and it was so cold his breath frosted in front of him. It was snowing…but as Quentin held out his hand, he realized it wasn't snow, but ash.

He stood, peering at the slowly growing pile of grey powder in his palm and then glanced up at the jungle gym nearby. There were figures there. Children sized figures climbing on different parts of the many metal bars. But they weren't children anymore…they were smoldering shapes, glowing cinders cracking through their smiling faces. He could hear them laughing and as the night wind stirred through the play yard it blew through their charred bodies, disintegrating them into the pieces that were billowing about and landing on his clothes, his hand, his skin.

Quentin backed away horrified from the sight, gasping in terror trying to wipe away the flakes of ash that were covering him. He kept backing up not noticing where he was going until it was too late and he slammed into something hard. When he turned he found himself no longer on the playground but in a steam filled room full of pipes and gauges, an eerie orange glow illuminating the spaces between. It was humid, and the air smelled of heat and rust. His skin immediately grew sweaty, a combination of the temperature and fear.

"Where…what…what the hell…" He muttered looking around with wide eyes. His Bauhaus t-shirt was sticking to his skin. "Why are you doing this?" He cried out, knowing that the man would be there. He was always there.

The screeching of knives on metal pierced his brain as if the sound itself was the very blades creating it. He winced, covering his ears futilely. The sound was in his brain, it was everywhere because this was all happening in his mind. Logic…he had to think logically. This was only a dream. He couldn't die here, because he had to be there for Nancy.

"And why is that Quentin?" A rough voice asked from behind him. A familiar voice…

The boy turned and he saw the man standing there. Burned, skin a patchwork of red melted flesh. One hand wore the glove, the source of the screeching noise. His hard blue eyes stared into him.

"Wha…what?" Quentin stammered, trying to will himself to stay calm, and losing the battle.

"You have to be there for Nancy?" The man gave him a glare. "Why? Does Quentin have a little crush?" He laughed, mockingly, a sneer on his thin lips.

Quentin didn't answer him. Instead he turned, survival instinct overtaking his previous idea of staying calm as this was only a dream, and tried to run away. He managed to make it about three feet before he was grabbed from behind and thrown hard into a row of pipes. He could feel the heat of them burning through his jacket, but the more concerning thing was the gloved hand holding onto his throat.

"I asked," the burned mans voice was a loud growl now, his face inches from Quentin's. "Do you have a little crush?" He emphasized the last part by squeezing Quentin's throat, to the point that black spots formed in his vision. He couldn't breathe and that meant he couldn't answer the question even if he wanted to.

"You think you deserve her?" The man asked him less loudly this time, still not letting go. "You think you can save her? You can't even save yourself." He slammed him against the pipes again, and Quentin felt blood trickling down the back of his shirt. Pain radiated from the wound as he felt his skin start to blister beneath his clothes.

The man's face got closer, and Quentin could see the startling blue of his eyes were tinged with red. "You're lying to yourself kid." He told him, and then his gaze narrowed, lips frowning. "But then I guess that's something your good at, isn't it?"

He dropped him then, and Quentin fell to the floor gasping, desperate for air. He looked up to see the man raising the glove to strike him. But before he could Quentin heard a noise. It was a tinny, musical tone and Quentin had never been happier to hear it in his life. As the glove swept down Quentin Smith disappeared. When he awoke to the ringing of his cell phone he thought for sure he could hear the sound of a man bellowing in rage.

Quentin's head throbbed, but he answered the cell phone anyway. It was Nancy, and she sounded worried. He told her he'd come over right away as he reached around to find out what it was that was making his shirt feel so wet. His fingertips came away sticky with blood.

Nancy Thompson's house was a few blocks away from Quentin's. He'd moved onto Elm Street around the same time she had, towards the beginning of 8th grade. It had always been a quiet street, until lately. Ever since Jesse had appeared in her room, covered in blood and telling her it wasn't his…every little noise seemed so loud.

When Quentin arrived he looked paler than usual, which was saying a lot. He had the pasty white skin of the type of guy who stayed indoors, either playing video games, playing music, or just not wanting to be around most people. But the dark circles under his eyes told the story. He seemed even more out of it than just lack of sleep as he took a seat on the downstairs couch, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee she handed him along with the bottle of Excedrin he'd asked for.

"Headache?" Nancy asked in her low voice, taking a sip from her mug as she drew her black jean clad legs under herself next to him.

Quentin popped the bottle cap off with practiced ease one handed and shook four pills into his mouth, then took a drink of coffee to wash them down. The caffeine would hopefully help with the pain too, besides keeping him awake. "Yeah, you could say that." The head wound had stopped bleeding thankfully, but he still felt like someone had hit him in the skull with a two by four.

"I don't get it Quentin." She said at last, eyes staring at the off white colored fabric of her couch. "Jesse loved Chris...he seemed so scared. He…he sounded like Dean. I heard Chris talking to Dean before he killed himself…and he was talking about how he was too scared to sleep."

Quentin sipped at his coffee. "I know Nancy…"

"It's happening to you too isn't it?" She asked him, those big eyes staring at him over the steam coming up out of the mug. The image reminded him too much of the boiler room for his taste.

He wasn't blind. He could tell she was having the same problems he was, that they all were. Quentin wasn't the only one with tired eyes. "Yeah, it happened right when you called. I think you calling me actually saved my life."

Nancy's hands shook slightly. She placed the mug of coffee on an end table and drew her legs up even closer; as if afraid a hand would shoot out from beneath the couch and grab her. "Quentin why? There's got to be a reason…why us?" She whispered the words, glancing up the stairs towards where her mother was. "And why now?"

Quentin took another sip of coffee and sighed. He was so tired. His record for staying awake was four days, and by then he was so out of it he'd passed out and woke up twenty four later feeling like he'd ran a marathon. There was no way he could survive a full day sleeping. "What have you dreamed Nancy?" He asked her, trying to gauge where she was in the danger scheme of things.

Nancy smoothed her hair behind her ears then rubbed her eyes. "Just places, shapes. I see kids. There's a screeching sound. And then I hear a voice. I know it…but it seems…distorted." Her head fell back onto the couch. "The kids….the kids seem familiar too. And they keep singing this song…Jesse heard it too."

Quentin drank down the last of the coffee. "He's getting closer to you." He said under his breath, more to himself than to Nancy. Quentin looked back up at her, "What's the song?"

"It's a nursery rhyme I think. But it doesn't answer why Quentin." Nancy turned and looked at him. "Maybe if we can answer that, we can stop him."

"What's the song Nancy?" He asked her again.

She sighed. "1…2…Freddy's coming for you." Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper. She didn't want to say it aloud, because maybe somehow it would channel him into being in front of her.

"3…4 better lock your door." Quentin finished the first line. Nancy's eyes widened. "I couldn't remember his name Nancy…"

"And now you do." Her voice shook. Somehow that made it worse, that he knew the man in the sweaters name. It was another hold he had on him.

Quentin placed his empty cup on the table next to him. "We have to figure out who he is."

Nancy nodded, and they both agreed to meet up the next day to start solving the mystery of who Freddy was. Quentin left to pick up another box of Red Bulls before retuning home.

Nancy Thompson decided that five minutes was a safe amount of time to rest her eyes. Five minutes wouldn't be enough time for someone to kill her. So she slipped into her bathtub and relaxed, setting her alarm to wake her on her cell phone.

It worked perfectly. She felt better after her bath and then dried her hair. Staring at her reflection in the mirror she realized the lack of sleep was causing her to look just as pale as Quentin. Her eyes looked back at her, darker than before, and haunted.

She turned and opened the door to her bedroom, and stepped into a quiet landscape of snow. Nancy's breath quickened as she realized she was dreaming...and her bare feet grew cold as they crunched in the accumulated snowflakes on her bedroom floor.

When she turned back towards the bathroom she found herself standing in front of an old abandoned school building. The sign out front creaked in the slight breeze. The place looked familiar, like a faded photograph. She wiped some of the snow away from the sign, trying to read it. There was a B followed by an A. She glanced over to the right and saw a wooden archway leading to an overgrown and very dead garden. Her brows furrowed.

The sounds of children laughing were echoed in the breeze. Nancy stepped along the short path to the entrance to the school, feet now numb from cold. But she had to know…this was too specific not to be important. As her hand reached out to the doorknob she heard the voice behind her, and she knew…Freddy had finally found her.

"Little Nancy….all grown up." The rough voice spoke, followed by the swishing noise of metal on metal.

She turned and saw him. His face was in the shadows of his hat, but it was still obviously burned, but his eyes shone, blue and hard…staring.

"Who are you?" She managed to say, her voice surprisingly steady.

He was standing next to her then, the scent of smoke clinging to him like a blanket. "You don't remember…none of you do. But you must, you were my number one. My helper…" the blades of his glove run down her arm. "My little Judas, my little Nancy." The fingers wrap around her fist.

"You're just a nightmare…just a dream." She manages to say, trying not to stare now that he's so close and she can see the truly horrific scaring of his face. She can see the icy blue eyes peering out at her from a face disfigured by heat so intense that he's been melted like a candle. The artist in her can't help but think the contrast is beautiful in a twisted way, but she doesn't' acknowledge the random thought. She's too focused on trying not to die.

"That's right…no one can prove I was ever here." He laughs, a mirthless gravely noise. "That was always the plan though…" His hand tightens on hers and Nancy feels the blades prick her forearm slightly.

"I…set my alarm." She says, praying it would just go off and wondering why it hadn't yet.

He laughs again, and the fingers of his other hand clamp around her chin forcing her to look at him. She's going to see what they did…they all will before they die for it. But not her…not yet anyway. "Yes you did…" And he smiles, his mouth twisting in a wry grin. "In your dream." He sees the terror flash in her eyes as she realizes he's right.

His little Judas is scared…she was never a stupid child, that was for certain. He thinks about Quentin and the fact that he loves her. He could see in his mind the pining thoughts for his dark eyed goddess. Quentin didn't know what real love was or true suffering. The two were so closely tied…but Freddy knew. He knew all too well. And he'd teach all of his little Judas's about suffering before he was done.

But Nancy was special…she was always his little helper. His little Picasso, he remembered her pink cheeks covered in paint while they both would draw pictures of the flowers he'd just planted in the garden. She was talented, even back then…and even more talented in lying. She'd be his little helper once more, helping him to create a masterpiece out of the blood of Springwoods liars, drawn with nightmares and screams.

She was shaking, and he saw tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. It made a memory of his flicker to life…of a girl in his arms held like this only far more tenderly. His grip loosened just a bit as he paused, and pain of a different sort than what he was always feeling slid past his cold gaze. But the memory fed the rage, a reminder of more things that he'd lost thanks to them. He growled, pushing it back in the fire that still burned within him, that had given birth to the creature he now was.

Freddy leaned close to her ear and growled, blades going a bit deeper into her arm. "Now Little Judas…go fetch."

Nancy jerked awake to the sound of her phone ringing. It wasn't the alarm but a call coming through, from Quentin. She answered, gasping. "I saw him…I saw Freddy."

On the other end of the phone Quentin slumped down, waiting for the shock of what she'd told him to wear off. Then he said the words that caused Nancy to go quiet. "Jesse's dead."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: - I refuse!**

**Authors Note: Wow, you guys really like Frankie. Thank you for that. I know we've been without her for a chapter or so, but she's back now. And let me tell you, things aren't going to go so well for her. The next chapter is going to be a hard one to write, and I'm sure you'll figure out why when you've read this one. **

**Oh and to answer a question. Freddy remembers Frankie. He just doesn't want to. He's in enough pain as it is. Those memories only cause him more. So he's banished them away. Because the anger and rage fuel him now. He's lost that part of himself (or has he? Mwahahaha.) Let's just say Frankie isn't the only one who's going to have their own issues to deal with.**

**Once again I'm taking scenes from the film and tweaking them as I see fit for this story. If it seems out of sequence or whatever, that's why. I'm mixing my own cocktail.**

**Reviews only feed my desire to write faster, hence why you got two chapters so close together this weekend. Gimmeeee! **

Chapter 8

Quentin arrived in the morning. Nancy hadn't gone back to sleep that night so when he arrived she was still sitting at her easel working on a sketch. When he came into the room he hugged her without a moments hesitation, happy to see her alive. She hugged him back awkwardly, her pencil still in her hand, charcoal staining her fingers.

When Quentin pulled away he looked a bit embarrassed and was going to apologize when he saw what Nancy had been drawing. "What's that?" He asked, looking at the picture of a building, a playground, and what appeared to be a garden.

"It was in my dream." She told him, wiping her hands on an already blackened rag. "That's where I was…when he showed up."

Quentin took a seat on her bed. "I was in a playground too…at first." His heavy eyes peered at the picture, and he felt the barest tingle of a memory itching at his brain.

Nancy moved from the stool to sit next to him. She grabbed the can of diet coke from her desk and took a long swallow, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "There's got to be something to it…the sign…it started with a BA…"

Quentin felt the itch grow in strength. "BAD…I remember, there was a sign…Bad…"

Nancy's eyes widened. "Badham." She said aloud. "Badham Pre-school."

"Alright, Badham Pre-School. Let's see what we can find on it." He moved to her laptop and started searching.

"It may not even be real." She told him, peering over his shoulder.

"That's all we've got to go on." Quentin told her, typing away. "It's better than one guy's name."

The results weren't promising. There was mention of the school in the Springwood records site as having been there, but closed years earlier. There were no photos of the school itself or any of the children that had attended. But there was an address. It had been in the town. It was real, and that meant sadly that the man in the hat and sweater was one step closer to being real too.

Quentin and Nancy sat staring at floor from the foot of her bed. "What's the connection…" she muttered to herself.

"I don't know…I don't get it. What the hell does this pre-school have to do with us? We didn't start school together until a few years back." Quentin ran his fingers through his hair and lay back on the bed with a thump.

Nancy bit her lower lip in thought. "That's what Chris had said about her and Dean…but that picture at his funeral. They were at a playground together…and they were like five years old."

Quentin sat back up. "So why would their parents keep something like that a secret?" He asked confused.

"I don't know." Nancy's face grew serious, her brown eyes growing hard in her pale face. "But my mom is keeping something from me."

"What do you mean?" Quentin brows narrowed.

"I asked her something last night...about if we had a connection; me, Chris, Dean, Jesse and you. If we'd ever known someone named Freddy; and I could tell when she said no that she was lying." Nancy glared at her bedroom door, as if her mother was standing there right then. "There's something they aren't telling us."

Nancy and Quentin headed into the family room and started rummaging through the large chest of drawers that held all of the photo albums, report cards, drawings, and mementos that her mother had collected over the years. A disturbing trend emerged after a while that Nancy saw right away. Anything to do with her life before the age of seven was missing. There were baby photos, even a few shots of her as a toddler. But nothing else was there. It was as if those years had been wiped clean.

"There's nothing here." Quentin said, frustration and exhaustion lacing the words.

Nancy tried to close the drawer she'd been searching in, but when she pushed it shut it wouldn't go. She tried again, and realized something was blocking it. She turned to Quentin. "Help me."

The two of them pulled out the heavy wooden drawer, placing it on the floor carefully. Nancy quickly turned and saw a large manila envelope, faded with age, lying in between the drawers. She pulled it out and then opened it, scanning the faded ink writing on the front, but not able to make out the words. Inside were photos, photos that filled in the blanks of their previous hours of searching.

The one picture that stood out amongst the rest was a class photo, taken of a group of five year old children. They all stood smiling in neat rows. Their teacher stood next to them, a woman starting to go grey who looked a bit harried. As Nancy took in each smiling face her own face grew still. "Quentin…its us." She said softly.

"What?" Quentin took the photo from her, and he saw she was right.

"It's all of us." She said, pointing to the small sign in the front of the picture. "Badham Preschool. We all went to school there. That's Chris, there's Dean. Jesse is up in the corner, and you and me…we're right there."

Quentin nodded. There they stood…and it still made no sense. "But why not tell us?"

Nancy picked up another photo, similar to the one that Quentin was still staring at confused. This was another group shot, but this time the teacher stood to the side, smiling and her head caught in mid shake. Standing with the kids, who were now making goofy faces was a man in a short sleeve shirt and khaki pants. He was wearing a brown hat and smiling widely, pointing at the children with one hand. Standing in front of him was a younger woman, Nancy's age now, with short brown hair and big light blue eyes. She was smiling too, and pointing at the kids. The man's free hand was lying on her shoulder.

Nancy peered at the photo carefully, she knew that girl. She shook her head as if hoping that it would jar her thoughts into focus. She picked up another picture and there they were again. It was a photo of Chris and Nancy, running around playing in a park; and in the background, as though an afterthought, were the man and the young woman. They were sitting at picnic table laughing, and Nancy could see the man was holding the woman's hand.

"What are you doing?" A voice asked from the doorway. Nancy and Quentin both jumped and looked up finding Nancy's mother standing there with a look of shock and dread on her face. She leaned down as she saw the same expression come over her daughter.

"What is this?" Nancy asked holding the photo out to her mother like a loaded gun. "You said we didn't know each other…"

"Nancy give me the picture." Her mother tone was now calm.

"Why did you lie to me?" Nancy's eyes started to tear up. "Why did you lie to me?" The tears fell down her cheeks as her voice rose.

"I didn't lie to you." Her mother repeated.

"You're lying right now! This is lying! You said this didn't happen!" Nancy started to shake. "Chris, Dean, and Jesse…you keep lying!"

"I'm not lying! I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO REMEMBER!" Her mother's voice broke and the two of them looked like a cracked mirror image of the other…one older and one young, but both fractured by something in the past.

It took half an hour for the two of them to calm down enough to actually talk. Quentin sat beside Nancy at the dining table, the two of them both nursing cups of coffee while Nancy's mother told them the story of Badham. Quentin tried not to vomit, and Nancy looked as though she was going to fall out of her chair.

The man in the photos was named Fred Krueger and he'd been abusing the kids at Badham. Before the cops could stop him, he'd left town. The parents, to spare their kids the trauma had covered it up, right down to hiding the photos of their kids from the year it had happened. They had kept the kids apart until later, a full blanking out of history.

But the memories must have resurfaced in the form of the nightmares that Nancy was having, Quentin too. That's all they were, Nancy's mom said…just memories.

When she left to head to her office Quentin stuck around. There was no need to hide the photos anymore, and although it took some convincing her mother let her keep them to look at. There was already enough damage done she must have decided.

As soon as she was gone Nancy turned to Quentin. "She's still lying."

Quentin looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"

"She's still hiding something. Quentin there's more to this…you know it. Repressed memories can't kill you." She let out a long breath of air and picked up another of the photographs. This one was a shot of Freddy and the young woman posing with Nancy and another of the girls in the class. The woman with the pale eyes had a big smile and her head was lying on Freddy's shoulder. They all looked happy.

"There's something not right here Quentin. We need to find these people in the photos, we need to know if this is happening to them." Nancy's expression was determined.

They got into Nancy's car a few minutes later, but before they could leave Quentin's father Alan pulled up blocking them in the driveway.

"Come on son." He called out in his deep voice, while his eyes rested heavily on Nancy.

With a curse, Quentin slammed his fist on the arm rest. "Give me a couple hours…I'll meet you at the library okay?"

Nancy nodded and Quentin sullenly got out and got into his dad's car. Nancy couldn't tell what he was saying as they drove away, but she could make out Quentin's hands gesturing wildly.

She drove to the library downtown and started searching the records and newspapers. They'd covered up the whole thing perfectly. Not one mention of Krueger was anywhere. It was as if the man had never existed at all. "His Little Judas…" What the hell had that meant?

Nancy plugged her IPod in and blasted away the background noise with music as she scanned document after document. No sign of Freddy. After an two hours of looking for one instance of his name somewhere she decided to start looking for the other two adults in the photos. Maybe one of them could answer the questions her mother wouldn't.

Mrs. Davis, the teacher in the pictures had apparently died nearly ten years ago. After reading the obit it was clear that the woman hadn't had a happy life after the school had been closed. Sadly that avenue wasn't going to lead to answers.

That left the younger woman. Luckily the class photo containing her and Freddy had included all their names. "Frankie Jones" was listed as a volunteer assistant. If Nancy had her age figured correctly then she'd be a little over thirty years old now, if she'd lived.

Nancy started searching the local records and newspapers for the name and discovered that the girl was actually the daughter of a local cop named Mark Jones. She'd gone to school at Springwood High, but after checking her class graduation list, Nancy saw she'd not graduated from the school. There was no local address for her anywhere, no local number. And there was no listing of a death in any of the papers. Nancy put a large question mark in her notes next to Frankie's name. She had a feeling this was someone they needed to find.

Quentin arrived an hour later. Nancy didn't ask what he told his father as an excuse. Between the two of them they managed to cross out a third of the faces in the Badham class photo, like a sick version of bingo. Nearly every child had been killed in the last twelve few weeks…and it had all started with Dean's death.

The library was closing and they had to leave. Quentin promised they'd meet at school the next day to work some more. Nancy nodded, feeling the exhaustion hitting her like a heavy weight. She was so tired she could barely move. Quentin pulled two Red Bulls from his back pack and shoved them at her.

"How many of these are you drinking a day?" She asked him, slipping them into her own bag.

"You don't want to know." He told her with a half grin.

"Krueger won't have to kill you, the heart attack will." She told him shaking her head.

"That would probably be preferable don't you think?" He asked her, half serious.

Nancy couldn't argue the point.

The next day while Nancy sat in the school's library crossing off more faces Quentin Smith saw the death of Fred Krueger from a front row seat. It nearly cost him his life as he nearly drowned, but he realized Nancy was more than right. Their parents had lied to them about everything.

When he told her she'd not seemed surprised. "They killed him Nancy. They burned him alive."

Before Nancy could respond his father saw him in the hallway and then all hell broke loose. He asked him point blank about Krueger. Before it could get more out of hand Alan Smith pulled them into his office. He tried to get his son to realize the severity of the situation and why they had done it. But Quentin wouldn't listen to him.

"We were five…we could have said anything!" Quentin yelled. "Look at what's happened dad. Look at what you guys have started!" He stormed out of the office and Nancy followed him. Before she could leave though, Alan stopped her.

"That man never existed…do you understand?" He told her, his voice deeper than normal with the weight of what he was saying. Nancy only looked at him, then walked out the door.

Nancy found Quentin leaning heavily against his locker, tears on his cheeks. "I can't believe I'm fucking crying in the hall." He told her wiping at his eyes with his shirt sleeves. "And I can't believe my fucking father is a vigilante murderer."

"Quentin this isn't going to stop until we stop it…we need to find Frankie Jones." Nancy touched his arm.

"Frankie Jones?" He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Who's Frankie Jones?"

"She's the woman in the photos, the one that's near Freddy. She's not listed deceased anywhere…which means she's the only one besides the two of us that isn't." She sighed, the need for sleep eating away at her. "I think she might be able to help…we don't have anything else."

Quentin nodded. "Let's find her then." He pushed away from the lockers. "I think I know someone that might be able to help us. Come with me."

Quentin headed into the computer lab where Jerry, the most geek kid he knew was always sure to be found. Using her name, and the information the pulled from the schools records, Jerry started hunting down the possible whereabouts of Frankie Jones.

The dark interior of the room was making Nancy even more tired. She told Quentin she needed to go for a walk. He nodded as he watched Jerry typing away like a fiend, faster than even he could keep up with.

Nancy stood outside the fluorescent hallway of Springwood High and felt like she was standing in another world. Everything seemed so surreal now, knowing what she did. Springwood was false, a lie, nothing was what she thought it was supposed to be. And maybe that's why she'd never felt like she belonged there. Maybe that's why she painted, why she'd lose herself in drawing…because she was looking for truth this whole time.

She blinked her eyes and glanced down a hallway as she heard her name called. A singsong voice that she knew, calling her and asking her to join a game. Nancy looked towards it, and there was Chris, standing in a blood soaked body bag, her eyes wide and her hand reaching towards her. Nancy stumbled backwards and Chris screamed, a fount of blood erupting from her mouth, splattering on the body bags zippered front in a river of red.

"Nancy!" A hand clamped on her shoulder and she jumped. Turning she found Quentin's face looking at her strangely.

"I…I just saw Chris…in a body bag." She pointed in the direction her dead friend had been standing, where not a trace remained.

"You're having micronaps…" Quentin looked worried. "You've been up too long."

"What's a micronap?" She asked him, rubbing her eyes.

"You're brain will start shutting down sections if its deprived of sleep. We need it to live. After a certain point, it starts causing a person to sleep…even when they don't know they are. You're dreaming and you don't realize it. Eventually if you don't sleep it will shut down enough that you won't wake up." His voice grew more grave with each word.

"Great…that's…great." Nancy pointed to the print out in his hand. "What's that?"

"These are the Google Map directions to Frankie Jones, or who we at least hope is Frankie Jones."

"You found her?" They started walking quickly.

Quentin opened the door leading to the schools parking lot. "According to Jerry a Frankie Jones lives over in Dunston, which is a ten hour drive…but I have nothing better to do tonight. So I thought we could head over right now." He gave her a nervous smile.

Nancy nodded. "I'm free up tonight too…so let's go."

Frankie turned the key in her apartment door and shut it behind her with sigh. Today had been a long one at the bookstore and she wanted nothing more to curl up on her bed and sleep. Sadly her roommate Daniela had other plans. She was in a cooking mood and had the entire house smelling like Thai food. Which on any other night would be fine, but Frankie really only wanted sleep.

Daniela smiled at her from the kitchen nook where she was stir frying something that smelled like curry and peppers. "You look beat…sit down."

Frankie slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and fiddled with the ring on her left hand out of habit. "I am beat, hence the desire to go pass out for eight hours."

"You need to eat Frankie…you never take care of yourself." Her friend scolded her, taking a taste from the bamboo spoon she was using. "Nummy, nearly perfect."

Daniela didn't notice the wince that came over Frankie's face at her urging for her to eat. It reminded her of things; things too painful to think about right then. She was too tired for the memories tonight. "Your going to make me eat even if I don't want to."

"Yep, you love Thai food anyway, so just deal with it." Daniela bounced over to the cabinet and started going through them, searching for something, god only knew what. Frankie wasn't much in the kitchen. "So what happened? You look like someone kicked your puppy in front of you?"

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Nice image. It was just a long day Daniela." She wasn't going to share why it was so long. The reason being that Freddy had been on her mind most of the day thanks to a customer who'd come in wearing a Springwood High jacket.

Frankie knew that she could have moved way farther than she had from the city that had destroyed her hopes for a totally happy life. But there was always that thought in the back of her mind that maybe Fred would show up looking for her someday. Sure he'd be older but it wouldn't matter. The fact was, she'd never moved on because of him. She'd waited because that's what he'd done for her. And wherever he was…there was always that chance.

But the memories hit hard whenever they hit. And she was exhausted from trying to stay focused. She was also thankful the guy wasn't familiar. No chance he'd know her.

Daniela dished out plates while Frankie listened to her day at work, which was far more interesting as she was a photographer and a good one, which meant steady work. The food was good and Frankie realized she was pretty hungry when she finished an entire plate of stir fry without knowing it.

She did the dishes since it was only fair. Daniela started a load of laundry and then a knock came on their door. Frankie looked over at the clock and saw it was nearly eleven at night. Who would be coming over this late?

Drying her hands, Frankie headed over to the door and peered through the eyehole to see who was outside. Two teenagers looking nervous and very tired stood there. Frankie pondered the intelligence of letting them inside and then went ahead and opened the door.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

Nancy stared at the woman who had answered. She was an older version of her photograph. Her brown hair was longer, brushing her neck now, more shaggy and mussed. Her face was slightly fuller as was the rest of her. But she had the same pale eyes, although Nancy could see they weren't as bright as they had been in the photographs.

"Frankie Jones?" Quentin asked, needing to confirm it before they told her why they were there.

Frankie raised an eyebrow, suddenly very nervous. There was something wrong here. "Yes…" she looked the two kids in front of her again, realizing there was something familiar about them, but she was unable to put her finger on it.

Quentin took a breath and licked his dry lips. "We…we're here to talk to you about Freddy Krueger." He said finally.

Frankie had never fainted before; it was a strange experience to say the least.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: ….-…..-…-.-…- **

**Authors Note: This is a long one. I hope you enjoy this. We've got lots of angsty goodness and the plot is a thickening. Hope you enjoy. **

**And WOW over 100 reviews! Woooooohoooo! Keep em coming, since it's the only way I know if you actually are still reading and enjoying this. Thank you for all the favorites for this story as well. Viva La Krueger!**

Frankie came to on the couch with a very worried Daniela hovering over her with a damp washcloth. Her eyes focused on her roomie. "Did I imagine those kids?" She asked hazily.

"No, they are right over there." Daniela pointed to the kitchen table where the kids sat drinking coffee and looking both exhausted and guilty. The boy gave her a timid wave.

Frankie closed her eyes, having hoped they'd been some sort of delusion brought on by bad Thai food. The name she hadn't heard another person speak in over a decade had shocked her badly. Like a ghost had appeared in front of her.

"Damn." She muttered under her breath, and sat up. Daniela looked more apprehensive and tried helping her. "Don't hover Dani." Frankie said, waving her hand away. "I'm okay…"

"You turned white as a sheet Frankie. That's not okay in my book." Daniela pursed her lips at her.

Frankie took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. She had a very heavy sense of unease about these two teenagers. "I'll be alright. Go on to bed."

Daniela made a "hurming" noise and with one last glance at the new arrivals headed off to her bedroom.

Frankie stood and walked over to the still steaming pot of coffee and poured herself a cup, filled it with cream and added five packets of Equal. She stirred it methodically not saying anything to the obviously nervous teenagers. She was still trying to wrap her head around this. She took a sip and let the rich taste of the coffee swirl around her mouth before she swallowed and then went to sit down at the table with them.

"Okay…" She said, holding onto her cup. "Who are you and why are you here?" Straightforward and to the point was best. Frankie looked at the young man, and now that she was really looking at him noticed he seemed strangely familiar.

Quentin cleared his throat and tried to stand up a little straighter. Nancy had had enough of a shock after what happened in the pharmacy when they'd stopped to get a refill on his ADD meds. He figured he'd take the lead on this. She looked ready to break apart…and he wasn't far behind. But how do you explain what was happening to them? And not sound insane?

"We…we've got some questions." He said finally. "And you're the only person that we think can answer them."

Frankie's eyes narrowed. "That only answer half of what I just asked."

The boy let out a breath of air between his teeth, glancing over to the girl next to him. She was staring at the table top, dazed and shaking. Frankie wondered if they were on drugs for a moment.

The boy seemed to come to a decision. He turned back to Frankie. "My name is Quentin Smith, this is Nancy Thompson…we were students at Badham Pre-School when you volunteered there."

Frankie's heart stopped she was sure. Her hands shook and her mouth dropped open. She saw it then, why these two seemed so familiar. Quentin…and little Nancy all grown up. "Quen…Quentin…" She said his name as if trying to believe it was him. She'd never seen any of the kids from Badham in the years since she'd left. Frankie had thought it a blessing. She didn't know how she'd react to the fact if she did. Would she smile and say hello or would she tear into them with the reality of what they'd done. The lies that they'd told and how it had destroyed not just her life but a good mans too. But right then she had nothing she could say, she was simply numbed by the reality sitting in front of her.

Quentin nodded. "Yes, you were helping our teacher apparently…when a man named Fred Krueger worked at the school?"

At the mention of Freddy's name again she felt tears start forming. God she hadn't actually physically cried in so long about it. The pain was always there, never leaving her, never letting her move on to someone else. Not even letting her move further than Denton. But no one had said his name in so long…she glanced over and saw the girl, Nancy looking at her strangely. Her brown eyes were bloodshot and glossy, nearly vacant.

Frankie realized Quentin was waiting for her to say something. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Yes…I was there." Her blue eyes looked at the table top, mirroring Nancy's lost stare.

"Nancy and I…" He paused trying to figure out how to phrase it. "We think we're the only students left alive out of that class."

At this Frankie's eyes looked up into his. "What?" Her voice was shocked.

"We think we're the only surviving members of the class." He shifted uncomfortably while Nancy wrapped her trembling fingers around the mug of warm coffee in front of her. "We think they are all dead."

Frankie looked at him confused, not quite sure she was hearing him clearly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Quentin suddenly got angry, despite himself. His fist slammed down on the table top. How many times did he have to say this? "They've been murdered, killed…dead!"

Frankie moved herself back a bit away from the boy, noticing that Nancy didn't even flinch when he hit the table. It was clear he was afraid, but she had no proof of any of this. And if it was true, who was to say he wasn't the one who killed them? He didn't look stable…and on top of that, a part of her brain asked her, why should she give a shit? They had certainly never given a damn about her or Freddy.

"Why?" She asked him carefully. "Why would anyone want to kill a pre-school class?"

Quentin leaned back in his chair, sighing. He was doing this wrong. He could tell she was freaked out by him now. And he couldn't help it. There was no way what he had to say wasn't going to freak her out. "Not why…but who." He looked back her. "We…we think we know the why."

Frankie shook her head at him. "You think it was me?" She said, voice rising slightly. Yes she had a definante reason for it…but she couldn't have actually killed those kids. The parents maybe…but the kids?

"No…no we know it wasn't you." Quentin said, not realizing until just then how it had sounded. "We know who it is….but we're trying to figure out a way to stop it…maybe something you saw or know. Anything…" He knew he sounded desperate and rambling but the truth was they were desperate.

Frankie was at a loss. "Quentin…" She said his name trying to get him to stop. "I'm sorry but I don't have any idea if even what you are saying is true. I mean…you show up here late at night telling me about murders and looking like you've been on a bender for the past two days…"

Nancy's hand shot out and tossed a file folder onto the table top. The photos and print outs spread out in a fanning pattern in front of Frankie. There were articles about deaths, newspaper stories on clear printer paper, and mixed in with those were other photos, ones of little children that she recognized. And there with those children was a face she hadn't seen in over ten years.

Fred's eyes were always so beautifully blue. The camera hadn't done them justice, but the smile was brilliant. And there she was next to him, smiling just as widely, just as happy. Frankie hadn't realized she'd let out that choked half sob that made Quentin look at her suddenly. With trembling fingers she reached out and pulled the picture towards her. She glanced at the printouts at the photos, noticing one of them had the faces crossed out, a class picture with only two class members free of the dubious red x.

"There's your proof." Nancy said, her voice rough. She took a drink of her coffee.

Frankie glanced at her for a moment as she picked up the picture, swallowing hard. "I…I never got to see these." She said in a whisper.

"We hadn't either." Quentin said, taking a deep breath.

Frankie looked at him curiously, her thumb running gently along the curve of Fred's cheek in the photo. "What?" She asked him.

"Our parents never showed us the pictures." Nancy spoke again, her eyes watching every movement of the woman next to her.

"Why?" Frankie asked her, then looked to Quentin. She felt lost and that sinking sensation in her stomach was growing.

Nancy answered before the boy could. "They wanted us to forget what happened. They wanted to forget what happened." She leaned across the table and picked up the group photo with the children making faces at the camera. "You were friends with him weren't you?" She asked Frankie, pointing to the man in the hat.

Frankie licked her lips, her pulse started to thud a bit faster. "Ye…yes…"

"Did you know he was…" Quentin started to say but before he could Frankie cut him off.

"He never laid one finger on you fucking kids." She said it low, nearly a growl; years of stewing anger, sadness and frustration coming through. Frankie hadn't meant it to come out that way. But seeing him, even in just a photo, reminded her how much he'd loved those kids at Badham and how they'd for whatever reason so easily turned on him. It brought all the pain of leaving back.

Quentin and Nancy both looked at her wide eyed. Quentin confused and Nancy as though realizing something.

"How…how do you know?" He asked.

Nancy's eyes glanced back to the photos, the one still on the table where Freddy Krueger and Frankie Jones were sitting in the background, then the one in her hand. "You were more than friends." She said in a whisper.

Quentin's face grew a shade paler and Frankie's eyes closed for a moment, not from shame but from too much coming back too fast.

"She was in high school." Quentin said, as though to argue what the girl had said aloud.

Frankie opened her eyes and glared at him. "I was in high school. That's why we were waiting till I was eighteen." She said between clenched teeth.

Quentin's mouth fell open. Nancy let the photo fall from her hand, looking as though she was going to cry herself. But Frankie didn't care…not anymore. She was going to tell them the truth, they'd come looking for it.

"That's right…he never touched me and he sure as hell didn't touch any of the kids." She stood up and still holding the photo started pacing, not able to just sit anymore. "Fred never would have done that, none of it. And I would know. I was around him more than anyone. He didn't have any family other than you kids. He loved all of you. You gave him a childhood he didn't get to have."

She took a breath, letting it out slowly. Quentin and Nancy were quiet, and she saw in their eyes they were realizing the truth. She wiped the tears that were on her cheeks away. Frankie hadn't even realized she'd started crying. "I loved him and he loved me. Freddy wanted to leave Springwood when I turned eighteen. See I had problems at home. Bad problems…and he wanted to get me away from them. My father was a cop…and he also liked beating the living shit out of me when he was drunk…which was most of the time. And even when he wasn't drunk." She leaned against the back of the couch, her energy running out.

Frankie took a moment then looked at the pale, stricken faces of her past that sat at her brightly lit kitchen table. "My father found out about us…I'm not sure how. We were so careful." She sniffed, wiping her eyes once more. "But he…he convinced your parents and the parents of the rest of the kids that Fred had abused you. When I went to meet him, he'd left town…the news got to him before I did about it. He knew what was coming and his reputation had already been destroyed. No one was going to listen to him after that." She slumped down lower. "I…I've never seen him since. I left Springwood the same day and never looked back. So if you're looking to me for help with something…sorry. I've not got any for you."

"You…you didn't know…" Quentin said softly, barely a whisper in the now quiet room.

Nancy glanced at him, then quickly back to Frankie. There was a look of fear and pity on her face. It made that sickening feeling grow in Frankie's stomach to a nearly crippling level.

"I didn't know what?" Frankie asked in a shaking voice.

Nancy placed a thin hand on Quentin's. She turned to the older woman, meeting her eyes gravely. "Fred Krueger didn't leave town…" She said in a tired, resigned voice. "The parents found him…"

Frankie's face turned the color of chalk. Even before she heard the words escaping Nancy's pale lips she was shaking her head no.

"They were going to confront him. But things went wrong…"

Nancy's voice kept saying these things but Frankie's mind wasn't going to believe them. No…she would not believe this.

"He tried to get away, but they cornered him in a factory."

Burnt windows…the smell of smoke. Something bad had happened there. Frankie knew something bad had happened and she couldn't look inside for fear of what she'd find. And that's when she knew it was true…

"They tossed a lit bottle of gasoline in, trying to make him come outside."

Freddy…Freddy why did you leave me? But you didn't leave me…not by choice.

"Something happened and the place…it burned down."

He'd been alone…and scared…and they killed him. They didn't give him a chance. They didn't give her a chance. They'd burned him alive. Frankie slumped to the ground, clutching the photo in her hands looking into Fred's blue eyes staring back at her. Tears fell onto the picture as they rolled down her face. She couldn't even feel them, she was numb.

But she wasn't, not completely. Her chest felt like someone was standing on it. She couldn't breathe, and the horror of what they'd done to him kept repeating over and over in her head. They'd murdered him and she'd not even known. All these years and she'd never known. "Oh Fred..." she was broken, splintering even as she said his name.

"Please…please Miss Jones you have to help us." Quentin's voice came from far away. Frankie realized she had no idea how long she'd been on the floor staring at the photo, nor did she care.

"Get the fuck out of my house." She said in a deceptively calm voice. Frankie didn't even look at him. All she could see was the photo and Freddy's eyes, swirling blue. She'd never see them again other than the image in front of her.

"We need your help…you're the only person who maybe can help us." The boy's voice was near tears himself.

Frankie looked at Quentin then, and her own eyes were like pale blue lasers, slicing into him so keenly he instantly went quiet. "I don't give a fuck about you or Springwood. If you thought I would after what you just told me you are as stupid as you look. Get the fuck out of my house." She stood, legs trembling, but she stood up using the couch as support.

"You don't understand, we're going to die if you don't." He pleaded with her, getting up from his chair.

"You don't understand." She told him, barely hanging onto her self control. "I don't give a shit if you die. You and her, all those other little bastards…you helped kill him!" She took two steps towards Quentin, not sure if she would punch him or attack him or what. "You lied and that's what happened! You and that whole god damn town can rot! Maybe this is karma, ever think about that? Maybe this is justice."

"It's revenge." Nancy said softly, but it was enough to make Frankie pause and turn to look at her. She was still sitting at the table, that same expression on her face.

"What?" Frankie was nearly panting she was so angry; she bit the word out at the girl.

"You're right…it's justice. Its revenge for what they did. What we did." Nancy blinked, her red rimmed eyes looking up into Frankie's face resigned. "But you're without sin."

Frankie's brow furrowed at her. "What the hell are you saying?"

"You've not seen him have you?" Nancy asked her.

"Seen who?" Frankie shook her head. She wanted them gone so she could simply curl up somewhere and not feel. But instead she was having confusion dumped on top of the healthy dose of anger and outright pain these two had already given her.

"Freddy…" Nancy said his name in a whisper, as though afraid he'd appear if he heard it. "Freddy's killing us Frankie. He's killed them all but us."

Frankie found herself shaking her head again; as though that would help her block the insanity she was hearing. And it was clear that Nancy was nearly at the point of insanity. "You told me he's dead…how can he be killing you if he was dead?"

Quentin let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. "He is dead…he's…he's attacking us in our dreams."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Frankie nearly screamed. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Quentin gathered up some of the printouts and shoved them at her. "Look! All of these…all of the deaths had to do with someone being asleep or falling asleep. He's coming back in our dreams and he's killing us off one by one. Read it!"

Frankie glanced down at the first story, not even sure why she hadn't just called the police on the two of them yet. She wasn't the biggest fan of the police though, thanks to dear old dad. So instead she read the first story about a girl who died in a car accident, then she saw another about a boy who'd cut his own throat, another who died in a locked prison cell after he was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend which he denied doing. Frankie recognized every name there, could even match them to the faces in the class picture.

"You can't tell me there's no way it's a coincidence that every person in that class has died mysteriously." Quentin told her after a few quiet minutes as she read the list. She'd found herself back in her original seat at the kitchen table. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. It was far too bizarre, too centered and specific.

She tossed the printouts back on the table and gave Quentin a pointed glance. "Even if I gave a damn…a dead man can't kill you in your dreams."

"It's him…we've all seen him. Jesse, Dean, Chris…they all saw him and so have I." Quentin told her, tone laced with anxiety.

"I've seen him." Nancy said in her same grave voice.

Frankie sighed, glaring at both of them. "Even if you're nutty theory is right Fred wouldn't do this…no matter how much shit Springwood is responsible for. He didn't have it in him…not something like this."

Nancy arched one dark brow. "If it was him…if I could prove it. Would you help us to stop it?"

Frankie looked at her strangely. Would she help stop it? Or should she be cheering on whomever it was doing it? She glanced away, looking heavenward. The truth was, deep down…she did care. She remembered Nancy when she was five years old and painting flowers with Freddy, she remembered Quentin driving everyone crazy while pouring chocolate milk everywhere. And she remembered how much Freddy loved those kids. If, by some crazy bizarre chance it was Freddy doing this…wouldn't he want her to stop him? And how the hell was she supposed to do that. God, she was becoming as nuts as they were…

She looked back at Nancy who was waiting for an answer. Frankie nodded once. "Prove to me its him…go ahead…let's see you do it."

Nancy pursed her lips at the sarcasm dripping from Frankie's mouth. She reached into her jacket pocket. "Hold out your hand." She told her and Frankie did as instructed. The girl dropped something into her palm, something soft and light.

Frankie pulled her hand back and opened her fingers from around whatever it was. There in her palm was piece of red and green cable knit sweater, tattered edged and very familiar. It carried the scent of old flowers and smoke.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Freddy you've been nibbling on my brain again. While I do own that, I don't own you. But I do own Frankie. So if you want to play with her you have to pay me. In sexual favors, or chocolate…or both at the same time. You're talented, you can figure that out Mr. Dream Demon.**

**Authors Note: Well, I got inspired. I was gonna hold off on having this go down until later… But I felt the need and the nibble of Freddy and had to have a little taste here. I'm actually pleased with how this chapter turned out. And it's a long one. **

**Holy shit, I've got 122 reviews! Keep them coming. I like knowing you guys are reading and that's the only consistent way I know you are. So enjoy…Freddy's back.**

**Chapter 10**

Frankie was sitting on her bed, still holding the ragged piece of sweater. Dani had overheard most of everything and was now pacing back and forth in her bedroom chewing the last bit of her thumb nail off. "I can't believe you never told me any of this shit. And I can't believe you are actually going to do this. Are you insane? I mean Frankie, come on. Those kids have to be on something."

Daniela's voice was pitched higher than normal but it couldn't cut through the fog that had enveloped Frankie. She ran the pad of her thumb over the fabric again, replaying what Nancy had said in her brain. She'd brought it out of her dream when he'd attacked her. She'd shown Frankie the ragged wounds on her arm from the glove. The description had triggered the memory of the drawing in the van. Ninja warfare…not quite, but Fred it seemed had found another use for it.

"I have to do it Dani. You don't understand…" Frankie's voice was far away.

"No I don't understand! This is going to go bad Frankie. Very bad, and you are going to wind up hurt or worse. Haven't you been through enough?" Daniela flopped down heavily next to her, avoiding the duffle bag that Frankie had packed quickly.

Frankie turned to her friend. Her eyes were tired, red rimmed. But she had a look of determination in her gaze. "Have you ever loved someone enough to do anything for them?" She asked Dani softly.

Daniela swallowed the lump in her throat, her own eyes tearing up. "Yeah, but Frankie…he's gone."

"Maybe he is…maybe he isn't. But I have to know Dani, I have to know." She glanced down at the piece of sweater. "I wasn't there when he needed me…but I'm here now. And if all this crazy shit is true..." She let out a shuddering breath. "Then maybe I can see him again."

Daniela's eyes widened. "Frankie…you saw her arm. You heard what they said. If this is true you don't want this guy to see you again."

Frankie shook her head. "You heard what they said too Dani. He's not come to me…"

"That's a good thing Frankie." Daniela touched her arm. "You don't want to be a part of this."

Frankie stood up. "If he's not going to come to me, then I'm going to come to him." She grabbed her bag, sliding it onto her shoulder. She placed the tattered piece of sweater in her pocket. Daniela's face was pale as she looked up at her. Frankie gave her a sad smile. "I'm already a part of this Dani. I always have been."

"Frankie please don't do this…" Dani grabbed her wrist, begging her not to leave. She loved her friend and she knew if she walked out that door the odds were she'd never see her again.

"Dani…you didn't know Freddy." Frankie sighed and glanced away for a moment. "He was always there when I needed him to be. He was the one good thing I ever had back then. And now…now if these kids are right…I don't know what he's become. If there's something I can do to help him I have to try. And those kids out there, I think they've been through enough." Frankie's face grew hard. "Quentin wasn't the one who threw the fire bomb…Nancy wasn't the one who started the rumor. They shouldn't have to be the ones who pay for what happened." She looked back at Dani, giving her hand a squeeze, that same sad smile coming back to her face. "It's time I faced my demons I suppose."

With that she let go of her hand and headed out her bedroom door. Nancy and Quentin stood in the living room, both of them looking worse for wear. Dani followed Frankie, glaring at the two teenagers. Her words were icy. "You've dragged her into this. Anything happens to her it's on your heads."

Nancy didn't say anything and Quentin looked down at the floor unable to meet her eyes. Frankie turned back to her roomie and shook her head. "I'll see you in a few." She told her.

Daniela fought back tears as she hugged Frankie goodbye. "Just be careful." She told her.

After another second they let go and Frankie turned to Quentin. "Give me the keys to your car nimrod. I'm not letting you drive me anywhere the way you look." She held out her hand and Quentin, with a glare, handed his keys over.

Frankie was surprised how she remembered the way back to Springwood so perfectly. She'd not driven it in over ten years, but it came to her like second nature. As she got closer to the town she felt her hands tighten on the steering wheel of Quentin's jeep. The signs were familiar…the farms on either side of the highway….it was still all the same.

Quentin sat in the backseat, refusing to sleep even though he desperately needed it. Instead he had on a pair of oversized headphones and was listening to his IPod so loudly that Frankie could make out every lyric that Robert Smith sung clearly from the front of the car. He was reading an Alan Moore Swamp Thing comic by the glow of the MP3 player's screen.

Nancy sat in the passenger seat. Frankie had put in a Tom Waits CD and was murmuring along to the raspy tune of love gone wrong. Nancy seemed to be staring down accusatorily at the car's cigarette lighter every so often. Finally the younger woman looked over at Frankie. "Why did you agree to help us?" She asked her.

Frankie looked at her briefly, picking up the 48 ounce massive Diet Mtn. Dew she'd been drinking for the last ten miles and taking a sip from the straw. "I'm not just helping you." She answered her.

"You want to help him." The girl's voice wasn't accusatory, just stating a fact. "But what if you can't?"

"Then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Frankie's eyes were back on the road. "I'm still not a hundred percent convinced you two aren't loony tunes. So don't get excited yet."

Nancy actually gave her a very tiny smile. "I remember you…" she said softly.

Frankie let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I remember you too. Picasso."

Nancy glanced away for a moment, the small fading. "Picasso…" she muttered under her breath, the name triggering something, a memory maybe.

"You always were a messy kid. But you were really good for how young you were. Do you still draw?" Frankie looked at Nancy who held up one of her hands nails facing out. There was the unmistakable stain of black around and under her nails from charcoal and ink. Frankie laughed again. "Yep, still messy."

They passed the Welcome to Springwood sign at right around 9am. Frankie wondered what the kids parents were going to say about them being gone for so long. Then she decided she didn't really give a damn what those people would say about anything.

The minute she drove past the sign Frankie felt a chill go down her spine, a sense of déjà vu coming over her. She'd never wanted to come back here…As the sun streamed down and she watched what should have been familiar store fronts and buildings go past, Frankie's sense of déjà vu turned into something else.

It was a bizarre detachment from this town which had been her home, her birthplace. It was familiar, she recognized places, names of streets, but it didn't feel like home. It felt alien, she was detached from it. There was no longer a connection between Frankie and this place. Time, hatred, and loss had eroded it away to nothing. It was now simply a town that she knew her way around.

"So I guess I need a place to crash." She said more to herself than anyone else. Frankie realized too suddenly that she had no idea where her father was. Was he even alive? Did he even live here anymore? God she didn't want to run into him, and there was no fucking way she was going to his house. Before Nancy could say anything Frankie asked "Is the motel still on Franklin?"

Nancy nodded. "Yes, it's still in pretty good shape."

Frankie gave her a rueful smile. "I figured you guys are going to have enough to explain without having to answer why there's a strange woman crashing on your couch."

Nancy rolled her dark eyes. "I doubt my mom would care. But Quentin's dad is…high strung."

Frankie made a sound in the back of throat at the thought of Alan Smith. It sounded like a gagging growl. She turned back to the road. "I'll drive to the motel and check in. You guys go deal with your parents. I'll give you my cell number and you can call me when your ready to do whatever the hell it is we're doing here."

Nancy leaned back in her seat when she saw Quentin was nearly asleep. She popped him on the shoulder and he took off his headphones, his eyes wide. "What…what's going on?"

"Frankie's going to the motel to check in. We need to go home and make up our cover story." Nancy explained calmly.

Quentin nodded a bit dazed.

Frankie shook her head at his cluelessness, and the obvious need he had to please Nancy. Anyone could tell the kid had it bad for her. Frankie sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She suddenly felt very old. Glancing up almost as an afterthought she turned down Franklin Street and pulled into the parking lot of the Sleep Inn Motel.

The paint job with its green and red color scheme made her very aware of the piece of sweater in her pocket and the reason she'd decided to come on this crazy trip. She put the jeep in park and peered into the dusty windowed office. Mr. Barris had to be in his 80's now, but there he sat as always in his button up shirt and black, thick framed glasses watching the same fifty year old television. He'd owned the place for as long as Frankie had been alive, and probably longer than that.

She got out of the drivers seat and snagged her bag from the back of the Jeep. She turned to Quentin who'd taken her place behind the wheel. "You've got my cell number and I've got both of yours. Call me if anything happens. I'll give you a call later regardless."

Quentin nodded, his eyes looking even more bloodshot. Nancy leaned over his arm. "Thank you Frankie." She said, that same grave voice…far too tired and old to be coming from such a young woman.

Frankie gave her a half smile. "Don't thank me yet kid." She said and then turned to walk through the door of the office. She glanced over to see Quentin pulling out into the street. She hoped he didn't fall asleep at the wheel.

Mr. Barris gave her only a brief glance when she checked in. He either didn't remember her from the three or four times they had met, or she'd not aged well over the last thirteen years. She paid with cash and signed a fake name. Thankfully the Sleep Inn was old enough and cheap enough they didn't care about incidentals or possible destruction of a room. There was really nothing in it that could be hurt.

The room was tacky 1960's and she was floored by the amount of orange that had been used on the walls and the threadbare carpet. It reeked of PineSol and starch, so even though the room looked like vomit, it at least smelled clean. The TV was only a bit newer than the one Mr. Barris had been watching. Frankie was glad she'd brought her IPhone. There was no chance of Wi-Fi here.

She tossed her bag on the scratched and chipped dresser. She pulled out her little travel bag of toiletries and headed into the bathroom. After what amounted to the world's longest pee, brushing her teeth and cleaning her face she went back into the bedroom and changed into a pair of loose fitting sweats and a baggy faded South Park t-shirt.

She was tired. Driving all night had not been easy, and the caffeine was wearing off. Add to that the emotional rollercoaster she was going through and Frankie simply wanted to curl up into a ball and simply close her eyes.

She yawned and snagging her phone she programmed the alarm to go off at around five pm. She was going to get at least six hours of sleep before she had to face anything else that day. Frankie slid into the stiff sheets and pulled the thin comforter over her head. Of course she couldn't go directly to sleep. The minute she tried things started popping up right and left in her brain. Memories; Freddy, Springwood, and the kids…images and feelings started bombarding her. Things that she had forced back so far that she'd made herself not remember in years bubbled to the surface.

She turned onto her back and pulling the blanket away stared up at the ceiling. "Damn it Frankie…go to sleep, this is not helping." She muttered to herself. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. Finally after a few minutes she felt herself drifting off.

_The park was lovely. It was twilight, real twilight with the sky turning to a mixture of purple and blue. Summer twilight was always so beautiful. The air was scented with a mixture of lavender and sweet grass. Frankie watched from a wrought iron bench as two little girls skipped rope in pastel dresses, their long hair bouncing in perfect shimmers of blonde._

_She looked down at what she was wearing. For some reason she was surprised to find herself in a white summer dress, thin straps over her shoulders. She touched the soft cotton of the skirt and smiled. _

"_Frankie…Frankie…come play with us!" A voice said and she turned to see little Chris holding out a hand to her. Frankie took it, and was pulled to her feet. She followed the girl to a small group of other children all playing hide and seek it looked like. _

_Those that had been found were standing in the middle, all saying nursery rhymes. Chris suddenly let go of her hand. "I found you! You have to stay here!" She said pointing to the group, then she ran off. Frankie watched her go, feeling like there was something she should remember._

"_She found you." A voice said next to her ear. "So you have to stay." _

_Frankie turned and there was Freddy, smiling at her. A stray lock of brown hair hung in front of his turquoise eyes. He was wearing his button down shirt and khaki's. She suddenly felt like crying._

"_I…I was looking for you." She told him._

"_I've been here." He told her, reaching up to touch her cheek._

_The children's voices were suddenly in a chorus of rhymes surrounding them. The sound was eerie, resonant. It echoed in the open park as though coming from everywhere. "The cow jumped over the moon." "Little boy blue…" "To fetch a pail of water."_

_The voices remained but Frankie realized that the children were no longer there. It was only she and Freddy now standing in the empty park, the fog of voices their only companions._

_He peered at her, his smile sad now. "I've been waiting." He said, pulling her into his arms. _

_Frankie placed her hands against his chest. He was cold. It registered in her sleeping mind that there was no heartbeat beneath her palm. But she didn't care. He was here. He was here with her. He wasn't supposed to be here…she knew that too. Frankie leaned up and kissed him very softly. His lips were cold too, chilled enough to cause a shiver to run down her spine but she wasn't scared. When she pulled back Frankie knew she was crying. "I've missed you." She told him, not afraid, but knowing she should be. _

_The voices were still there, and their stories were now changed…the rhymes weren't as innocent, the stories not the same happy endings as they should have. Jack and Jill's tumble didn't end but they fell forever. Peter put his wife in a pumpkin shell and then he ate her till his stomach swell. _

_Twisted rhymes but she still wasn't afraid, even when he lifted his hand to wipe away her tear and there was a razor sharp blade against her cheek resting against her skin, the tear slid onto the tip of the blade easily. Freddy was staring into her eyes, his gaze unwavering, the sharp steel not leaving even a mark, simply resting there like a caress._

_Frankie met his gaze with her own. "Can we jump over the moon…" she asked him her voice becoming so similar to the formless children's chorus._

"_And bleed forever…" He promised and kissed her again._

Frankie sat up with a jerk, the blankets and sheets tangled about her. Her alarm was ringing out like a banshee. She grabbed the phone and pressed the touch screen to shut it up. She was breathing heavily. That had been the first time she'd dreamed about him…in forever. And god damn it she was crying again. She wiped at her cheek irritated. Then she realized her fingers felt sticky. She looked down and saw not the sheen of tears but the crimson of blood.

Quentin had fallen asleep at last. And Freddy had him…he had him dead to rights, or at least nearly dead. He was wandering through the factory terrified as he found each and every body that belonged to the same kids he'd grown up with. Every little Judas, or nearly everyone. Freddy watched from the shadows, the revenge sweet on the air like the scent of summer flowers.

That scent...

Quentin was coming near him now…and soon he'd watch the boys pale face grow even whiter as his blood and life left him in a red torrent over his blades. Those blades against pale skin…and blue eyes…

Pale eyes…

Freddy turned as he felt something pulling at him. Pulling at him and causing the unfamiliar yet very familiar sensation of pain. "I was looking for you." A voice said, barely discernable over the sound of steam and the pipes dripping. His bladed fingers twitched. That voice, soft and welcome…so…soft…

"No…no…not you." He murmured, his voice far from soft. Rough, decimated by flames and smoke, he knew nothing of softness anymore. Only loud screams…sharp edges…heat and fire. There was no softness…but there it was. He could feel soft lips against his, just for a moment.

That moment was all Quentin needed to bring himself awake. Freddy felt it when the boy disappeared from his realm, out of reach once again. He turned away from the voice and snarled at the now empty spot the boy had been standing. Freddy's ungloved left hand slammed angrily onto a pipe, denting the metal.

"I missed you." The voice spoke again. Words he'd never heard, from a voice he'd tried to forget. Pain…more pain…more wanting…not for screams but for this. He wanted this. It warred with the desire for bloodshed, for vengeance. There was no room for this voice, no more room for this pain. There was already too much pain. They needed to bleed… But not her, she needed to go. She wasn't supposed to be here. She needed to wake up.

She wasn't a part of his dream. Not anymore. But his little Judas's needed to pay "And bleed forever."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Holy shit did she write another chapter? **

**Authors Note: Yes, yes I did! This story isn't dead, nor are any of my others…I've just been beyond busy. So please be patient as I try to start getting at least one chapter for my current fics out every week from here on out till they are completed. Freddy has been on my mind of late, so he got served first. **

**Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this and reviewed so far. Let me know if you are still interested in reading it. I do have an entire plot for this and an ending…I just got really super busy.**

Chapter 11

Frankie pressed the Kleenex against the cut on her cheek, peering at herself in the mirror with wide eyes. It wasn't deep, it didn't even hurt that much. It was just bleeding as facial lacerations did. The fact that she could still smell the flowers in the air around her was nearly as troubling as the cut. The fact that she could still see his eyes when she closed hers and taste him on her lips…all of this was troubling. After a few more minutes the cut stopped bleeding. Frankie tossed the red stained tissue into the garbage and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

God it was all true...

No, there had to be an explanation. She'd been through too much in past few hours. It had triggered this dream and she'd scratched herself in her sleep. That was it, that had to be it. But Frankie knew that it had been too real, too much for her not to know the truth. The glove was there. And the children...the voices...

When her cell phone rang she nearly jumped off the bed five feet into the air. Frankie ran shaking fingers through her hair and grabbed it off the nightstand. "Ye...Yes?"

"Frankie its Quentin." The boys voice was shaking as much as hers. "I, I had a nightmare..."

"Are you okay?" She asked him starting to pace back and forth.

"I think so; I woke up before I saw him." She heard him fiddling with something, and she guessed it was a pill bottle. "But I know he was there, he's never not there. And I saw the bodies. God, Frankie...I saw all of them."

Frankie felt her mouth go dry at that. "The kids..." She said in a whisper, not to him...but as a confirmation of what she'd seen in her own dream. All those kids. Chris…they were all dead. And so was Freddy. No heartbeat, so damn cold beneath her touch. She'd been surrounded by death, and what scared her now was the fact it hadn't scared her then.

"Quentin are you sure you're okay?" Frankie wished suddenly for a cigarette, something she hadn't done in a few years.

"Yes, yes I'm alright now. But I'm calling you because of something I remember." She heard him sit down, the familiar squeaking of a desk chair coming to her ear.

"What is it?" She asked him.

"I heard, well I think I heard you saying something." He sighed heavily, and she could hear the exhaustion clearly through the phone. "I heard your voice in the dream and you were talking to someone. Frankie, were you sleeping just now?"

Frankie felt as though icy fingers were running up her back. She stopped breathing.

"Frankie are you still there?" Quentin's question jolted her back to herself.

"Yeah, I'm here." She tried to stop shaking…but the reality of it all wouldn't stop. "Quentin I dreamed about him."

She heard him knocking something over, no doubt getting to his feet quickly. "What? Are you okay? Jesus!"

"I'm fine…I…" Frankie felt tears pricking her eyes. "I talked to him…but…he wasn't burned. There were kids there playing. I saw Chris…I saw Freddy." She was having trouble breathing now and she knew that it would turn into a panic attack if she wasn't careful. But careful had gone out the window long ago. "He's dead…they were all dead Quentin." The hysteria was starting to creep into her voice and Frankie knew she had to hold on, but it felt like everything was starting to slip away.

"Frankie! Frankie!" Quentin's voice sounded far away. She hadn't realized, she hadn't known. Somewhere inside her head Frankie told herself that he hadn't hurt her, hadn't threatened her in the dream. Unlike the other kids…

"I'm coming over there." Quentin called over the phone. "I'll see if I can get Nancy too…but don't fall asleep. Frankie! Don't fall asleep!"

The phone slipped from her hand as Frankie slid to the floor. Freddy, Freddy had been there. Her Freddy, not the disfigured monster that Nancy and Quentin had described, but the Freddy she'd known and loved, the one who wanted to save her.

"But he cut you…" the thought came through in a flash of rational.

"He didn't mean to…" She said aloud, as if answering the rational part of her brain, which wasn't making much in the way of sense to the rest of her.

"But he did…they were dead…he was dead…bleed forever…" The words were rambling about as though trying to break through to her. But Frankie wasn't having it. Her mind was focused on turquoise eyes and a sad smile she'd missed so much it caused her chest to hurt as she remembered it.

Frankie stood and went to the door of the room and grabbed a chair, wedging it under the doorknob. Even if Quentin got a key he wouldn't be able to come inside without a lot of effort.

She wiped at her eyes and took a shaky breath as she turned and looked down at the bed. Frankie licked her dry lips and with unsteady legs walked back to the mattress and lay back on the pillows. She looked up at the ceiling, wondering if she'd even be able to go back to sleep. That rational part of her brain was screaming at her to not do what she was doing, and she argued back to herself that the rational part of life had left her years and years ago.

Frankie closed her eyes and forced her mind to settle, to remember how tired she really was and then to remember Freddy, to focus on him as if trying to conjure him back. Maybe it would work…maybe she wouldn't wind up like the other kids after all.

Frankie's eyes were closed for only a few moments, only a few heartbeats before she felt the heat suddenly rise around her, damp and heavy. When her eyes opened they were met by the sight of long, seemingly endless pipes dripping wet and choked with steam and walls lit by what could only be the fires of hell.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them…just my gal and her peeps.**

**Authors Note: I bet you thought I was dead. No, I'm not and neither is this story. I've just been traveling around Wonderland a lot. In any event, to celebrate the fact that a ton of people seem to love this story and we get a double dose of Human Target tonight, I'm giving you another chapter. This one is filled with angst a plenty. I hope you like what I'm doing with our boy (and his girl.) **

**So please review to let me know what you think and that you are still reading. Chocolate covered Krueger's are also welcome.**

**Chapter 12**

He could always tell when fresh meat showed up in his world. Freddy felt it happen like a tugging on his sleeve or a whisper in the air. He'd know and then he'd find them and they'd be added to the collection. But this time it was different…it felt different…

"No…" He said the word, thought the word, pushed the word with all his will towards the soul that had come looking for him. He was the god here, he was the power…if he didn't wish it then that single thought should be enough to send her away.

But it didn't work. He could still feel her walking through his hell. And he felt anger grow within him at the fact. "No…no…no…" The dream demon growled, his blades digging great gouges in the wall where he slashed it in frustration. How dare she come here? Why? How? Freddy didn't know the reason for her insanity…

Well if she wanted to see him so be it. She could see what the precious children had done, what her father had created. Wasn't she to blame too? Wasn't it because of her this had happened? As the thoughts entered his head the fires that burned within the walls of Freddy's realm grew in heat and flame.

Yes, yes she'd come here looking for him, so she would of course find him. His twisted lips curved upward in a smile, his cold blue eyes seemingly glowing in the ruin of his face. With a flick of his blades he disappeared, reappearing in another part of his realm of dreams…behind a set of pipes that hadn't been there before, only a few feet away from where she was standing.

Freddy watched as Frankie, grown older but not so much wiser, looked around with wide pale eyes at the walls that surrounded her. His gaze narrowed, studying her. She looked the same, but…but now she was older. The last time he'd seen her, touched her…she'd been the age that Nancy was now or Chris had been. Freddy felt that unfamiliar sensation cut deep within him at the memory which had grown faded and tattered…the sensation of pain. He pushed it down and away with a snarl and followed her as she walked further into the depths of his world.

He nearly stumbled when he heard her call his name. Her voice was the same…only a little changed by time, a little deeper and right then shaking with fear. He could taste her fear actually, taste it on his tongue. He could smell the sweetness of it in the stale, hot air. But she was saying his name, calling out to him…beckoning him…

Freddy shook himself from the feeling. Hearing his name pass her lips made something come alive inside him, something he didn't want to remain alive…something that shouldn't be there anymore, something that should be dead and buried just like the rest of him.

But it couldn't be helped. Part of his twisted mind wasn't listening. Instead of thinking about the various ways he could peel that pretty pale skin from her arms, he was instead realizing the ways she had changed since he'd last seen her. Her hair was longer, there were very fine lines just below her eyes. She had one barely there laugh line near her lips. She wasn't thin anymore, not like she was. She had curves now. That pain from before came back two fold as he remembered the way she had tasted of candy.

"The fucking bitch is the reason this happened…" The voice growled inside his head. His voice, the voice of anger and rage that he'd known for so long. That voice kept him going when he should have died. That rage kept him going when he should have ceased to exist. "She should pay just like the rest of them…she betrayed me…she left me to die." His eyes burned into her as she walked away, seeing warm rivulets of red pouring down her smooth back when he tore into her. It would be so easy…so sweet.

"Freddy?"

Her voice, soft…shuddering but still calling for him. "She didn't know…" There was suddenly another voice, familiar. He heard it inside his own skull, barely above the screaming that seemed to always be there; screams that weren't just his alone, not anymore at least. Freddy let out a frustrated growl at the voice, hoping it would go away. He liked the music of the screams. They distracted him from the sounds of his own. There were enough screams now that he nearly couldn't hear his in the wailing that was his constant companion.

But Frankie's voice…it cut through the noise. It quieted things down till that second one could be heard. And Freddy didn't want to hear either…he wanted the screams back. More importantly he wanted to add Frankie's screams to the symphony. Oh yes…that would be bliss. His lips lifted back up slightly in their parody of a smile.

"She didn't know…she's not a part of this." That voice again. Freddy ignored it, but it was like an insect, buzzing at his ear. "You know she's not. Send her away, far away…"

He followed her silently as she walked the endless paths through the pipes. Freddy didn't heed the voice, its gentle spineless tone making his teeth hurt. No, she wasn't going anywhere. She was here now, in his domain. And he wanted her here, the more he pondered it, the more he watched her. There were all sorts of games he could play here in his world of nightmares.

Frankie knew he was watching her. She could feel eyes on her, heavy…not kindly gazing but stalking. She knew then what a deer felt like or maybe a rabbit when it was being hunted by something that was such a good predator it could be invisible.

"You're a fucking moron Frankie." She thought to herself as she turned yet another corner, her skin sticky with the warmth of the steam mixed with sweat. It was like a furnace here…hellish would be a good word. She swallowed the tightness in her throat away as she realized once again why it would be so very hot.

She might be a moron but she wasn't stupid. As she looked around at the landscape of this dream she recognized what it was, why it was this way. It was the place that Freddy had died only to the infinite degree. It was the factory, the last place he'd been. The heat and the darkness…the fire she saw as if alive inside the walls. This was his hell, where the parents and the kids had trapped him.

But, as Frankie brushed her damp hair from her forehead, she realized they'd not really trapped him. They'd released a version of hell upon themselves, upon their children with their idiocy and their own bloodlust.

Frankie decided she'd had enough of waiting. Truth be told she'd been in a sort of living death ever since she'd left so many years ago. She was tired of this and if Freddy wanted to finish what her father had started, so be it. Frankie stopped walking and took a deep breath of the warm, oppressive air. "I know you're there." She spoke aloud, managing to keep her voice steady even though her heart was beating a mile a minute.

She heard a sound, like metal raking against metal. "Clever girl." The words were rough, dry, but familiar.

Frankie felt a sob try to escape her but she held it in, wincing at the sound as he spoke. "You always were a clever girl. Study study study…" He was mocking her now and she could hear his boots behind her, echoing along the walls.

Frankie was ready to face whatever was behind her, whatever he was now. She'd seen awful things in her life, had gone through a lot of them. Whatever Freddy Krueger had become she would face that too. She went to turn towards him but an arm went around her waist faster than possible, clad in red and green, a pattern that matched the fabric in her pocket.

She found herself pressed back against a solid chest. It felt as hard as stone, and just as immovable. The scent of smoke and old flowers wafted towards her, acrid and cloying. But her thoughts were more focused on his right hand, encased in a razor fingered glove that was now holding her face, keeping her from turning her head at the risk of having her cheek ripped open.

His lips were near her ear, and she could feel the heat that radiated from him, just like it did from the walls. It was as though he were filled with the same fire that burned within them. His chest moved then, and she felt the shifting of air as he took a breath near her neck. He was sniffing her…

"Candy…you always smelled like candy…" The rough voice rumbled against her cheek.

Frankie was afraid to talk, wasn't even sure she could without cutting herself on the blades of his fingers. But she had to try…she had to say something.

"Fred…"she managed to get out before she heard him growl softly, warningly. The arm around her waist tightened and she felt one blade tip nick her chin. She quieted quickly.

"I should kill you…slowly…make you pay…I could make it last for days. I have…stamina." She shuddered as the words ran along her skin, his breath just as heated as everything was here, as though from a furnace…or an inferno. The double meaning was only made more obvious by the way his gloveless hand lightly trailed its fingers along her hip for a moment.

"I could make you scream…" Freddy smiled against her cheek. Oh yes, he could make her scream. He was good at that. But the way she fit up against him made him want to make her scream in other ways too. He'd been denied her…by her father and by the people of Springwood. Wasn't it time he got what he was due? Yes she'd scream…she'd scream his name…just like she should have all those years ago. Then she'd just keep scream.

Freddy trailed his rough lips down her smooth cheek. He kept her head turned, held tightly in his fingers. He felt her jerk as one blade sliced her jaw just the tiniest bit. But she was smart…she didn't move much more. Except for the little shudder that he felt go up her back…he noticed that and it made him smile.

"I think you like to scream Frankie…" He whispered against her neck and then gave it a slow, languid lick. That same shudder again, this time harder, he liked that reaction. "And you know what? I like that in a girl…" He grinned a twisted smile and then bit her throat.

Frankie let out a stifled cry. It hurt of course, he drew on the skin hard, his teeth cutting her and bringing blood to the surface. But she didn't move, didn't dare. She felt him pressing against her back, his arms tightening around. And still she didn't move. His lips pulled away from her neck. "Mmmm….you still taste like candy too." He licked the now bruised skin again. "I bet you taste like that all over Frankie."

Frankie closed her eyes and didn't say a word. What could she say? It was bad enough that she felt some part of her responding to this in a way she never thought she would. She wrote it off on not enough male company in her life and lack of experience. She wasn't an S and M kind of girl. She'd come here to find Fred, her Fred…and so far he wasn't here. Only this was…this sort of monster.

She felt one blade nick her cheek. "You're not talking very much. Not much to say Frankie?" Freddy's voice curled around her ear. "I think we've got a lot to talk about…but maybe you're not a talker anymore. Just skip the small talk and get right to the good stuff? Is that the kind of girl you are now Frankie?"

When she realized he'd loosened the grip of the bladed glove enough for her to speak without risk she did. "I came here to find you Fred." She said in a small voice.

Frankie felt him go still for one heartbeat and then another. She heard a snarl come from his throat, rumbling up from his chest and then he tossed her to the floor. She caught herself on her hands, her knees hitting hard.

She looked up to find him turned, his back to her. "You aren't going to save her you fucking loser!" He snarled at the darkness. Frankie couldn't see anything. She backed away, trying to stand up.

"She's here and she's mine! I'll do what I fucking want with her. And you can watch!" Freddy ranted at nothing. Then he seemed to realize she was still behind him. He turned then and she saw him in all his glory. He grinned as he saw her face pale at the sight, then he laughed. "Still the man of your dreams?" He growled.

"Oh Fred…" She felt her heart still for a moment, the words barely able to be heard in the hissing of the pipes. She was scared, but it wasn't fear that made her ache inside the most. It was what they'd done to him. What they'd destroyed and given birth to. They'd corrupted him with his own death and the proof was right in front of her.

Freddy saw it then, in her eyes. It wasn't fear, it was something else. And he wasn't going to let that stand. No, she was going to be afraid of him! She was going to realize just what he was now and what she'd been a part of. She was going to pay. She didn't get to look at him like that, not with pity. Fuck that. Frankie was going to feel the fear that everyone did when he was around, she'd feel the pain and he'd hear her scream.

He snarled and took a step towards her, raising his glove high above his head. She couldn't move she was frozen in the spot. And then suddenly so was Freddy. As Frankie watched he fought against something that was holding him in place, he struggled and cursed and tried to rip his arm free.

"You're not getting away with this you little shit!" He bellowed. "She's mine! SHE'S MINE!"

Two arms appeared around Freddy's waist and Frankie stood and backed up and away at last, watching and unable to do anything but stare as Freddy seemed to be pulled back and away. He stretched and contorted and fought against it, but the arms held on and dragged him into the darkness. Then from out of that darkness a figure pitched forward, staggering and falling against the wall.

Frankie took a tentative step forward and then another, trying to breathe. When the figure looked up her eyes widened.

"You need to get out of here." Fred Krueger said as he pulled himself up to lean heavily against the wall of his prison. His dark hair was falling in front of his eyes, and he pushed it away in annoyance.

Frankie was frozen again and speechless. Then she did something that was probably considered insane. She ran over to him and hugged him. He let out a grunt of surprise and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away. But instead she felt his arms go around her and then hold her tightly, his chin resting on her head just as he always had done. Frankie realized she was crying but didn't care. She realized she was still at risk of being killed and she didn't care about that either. She'd fond what she'd been looking for.

"You still don't listen." He said, a sad smile pulling at his thin lips. His fingers brushed her hair, his arms getting used to how different she felt in them and yet the same. Fred couldn't hold in the darkness for very long. He wasn't strong enough, especially now. But he wasn't letting Frankie be a part of this, he couldn't…it was that simple. "Frankie…you can't stay here. You have to go." He didn't want her to go…he wanted to keep her in his arms like this, just like this. God he'd missed her.

"Fred…what happened? I can't leave you, not with him." She looked up at him with tears rolling down her cheeks. She still hadn't let go of him.

Those pale eyes nearly made him break. He could hear the demon screaming because he wanted to be causing tears of a different sort. Not happening. "Babe…he is me." He said softly, one hand lifting to brush the tears from her face.

"He's not…you're here with me. You…you got rid of him." She reached up and his cheek, feeling how cold it was even in the heat of the room.

"He's not gone, he's…he's inside me and I can't keep him there for long." Fred took hold of her hand. "You have to go Frankie. You have to wake up." He pleaded with her.

"I can't…I…Fred please…" She couldn't help it, she couldn't leave him. Not now, not when she'd found him again. It was crazy and she knew it was, but she couldn't make herself leave.

"You don't belong here Frankie." He told her, dark brows narrowed. "Do you hear me, you don't belong here."

She grasped at the front of his sweater, his clothes the same as the monsters. "Neither do you." She told him, desperate to get him to listen.

"Yes I do…I do…" He replied, shaking his head. God she was beautiful. He could still taste her on his tongue. Fred shoved that thought away roughly. He hadn't done that…that had been the other. He saw the mark on her neck, noticed the spots of blood on her jaw and his blue eyes turned hard. "You need to go now…"

"Fred please…I love you…" Frankie begged. She had no idea how she could save him. He was dead wasn't he? She didn't know what he was…maybe he was a ghost.

He felt the demon roaring at those words. He could feel the claws ripping at his insides but hearing her say it gave him a bit more strength and he fought it back. "That's…that's why you…need to leave." Fred managed to say. He glanced over and there was a floating image of Frankie asleep in her hotel room. It looked like a sort of mirror, showing the waking world.

Frankie saw this and confusion crossed her features. "That's me." She said in amazement.

"That's where you need to be." Fred winced, the fucking demon was angry. He was tearing at him and screaming. He didn't want her leaving. He could feel that same desire within Fred too and he was feeding on that emotion; that need to have her with him. But it wasn't right…he couldn't give in to it.

"He's killing you…" She saw the pain on his face. She touched his arm and could feel the trembling of it beneath of her fingers.

"You can't kill what's already dead Frankie." He looked at her with eyes that burned with a blue fire that was as hot as the flames in the walls.

Fred hesitated only an instant but decided that he'd earned it and this would be his only chance. He pulled her into his arms one last time and kissed her. He kissed her like he had all those years ago, the last time he'd seen her. He knew this was not going to make it easier to let her go, and he knew the demon was going to really hate him afterward. But he didn't care…he wanted to remember the taste of her on his own.

Her fingers were buried in his hair and Frankie could feel his gripping her waist tightly. His mouth was cold too but it felt so good against hers. He had her lips apart and was devouring her like a man possessed, which he was. But she let him take everything she had.

With a growl Fred lifted her up and pinned her against the heated wall of the boiler room. It burned against her skin through the shirt she was wearing but she wasn't going to stop him. He was pressed up against her, one leg between hers and still kissing her without stopping to breathe.

The demon raged and Fred heard him screaming how he was going to make him pay for taking something that didn't belong to him. His desire was feeding the demon and he knew it…he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd lose his hold. That was how it worked. He wasn't lying when he said the monster was him.

Fred pulled away from her mouth with a panting growl. He was coming back…and he didn't have a lot of time. He pushed away from her, his hands on either side of her, braced against the wall. When he opened his eyes they locked onto Frankie and she could see the "other" staring through them, hungry and filled with rage. "You…need to go now." His voice was deeper, rough…familiar.

Frankie slipped under his arm and backed away, not sure how she could leave. Then something happened, a wind pulled at her. Frankie turned and saw that Fred was leaning against the wall, his head bent down and grimacing. His left hand was curled into a trembling fist and suddenly his right hand slammed against the wall, and on it was a clawed glove of knives.

The wind dragged her towards the mirror, faster and faster. She cried his name but it couldn't be heard over the air that was now like a tornado. She was hurtling towards the mirror and through it, the pieces shattering around her loudly.

Frankie sat up with a scream in the bed and saw Quentin stepping through the now broken window of the hotel room and running towards her. "Frankie! Frankie what the hell were you doing?" He was saying, coming to sit next to her, nearly tripping on the brick he'd thrown through the glass.

She couldn't answer him. She started shaking and couldn't stop. The crying started then and she didn't know if that was going to stop either. The younger man, not sure what to do, wrapped an arm around her shoulders while Frankie shed tears for a man and a monster.


End file.
